Arya Lily Potter
by Kirstenlh23
Summary: Several seemingly small changes in a familiar story spark large differences down the line. James and Lily Potter welcome their new daughter to the world on July 31st, instead of a son. Amelia Bones corrects an old mistake, and an innocent man is released from prison after six years.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1.

Amelia Bones

Amelia Bones had been head of the department of Magical Law Enforcement for one short month. Crouch had lost the position five years previously, following the scandal involving his son, and his replacement had just lost his re-election campaign against her. In the last month she had been going over the files dating from just after the war, and she had come to the unfortunate conclusion that she had her work cut out for her. Her immediate predecessor had been responsible for the trial of the Malfoy family, which, as far as she could tell, was a badly covered up case of outright corruption. It was one the departments' worst kept secrets that the Malfoys had bought their way out of jail. She gained only slight comfort from the fact that they had paid dearly in galleons for their freedom. Lucius Malfoy at the very least deserved to be rotting in Azkaban, and his wife probably belonged in the next cell over, with her sister and cousin; A family reunion of sorts.

In her campaign for election, she had heavily criticized both Mr. Crouch and Mr. Smith for their lack of regard for regulations, in Mr. Crouches case, and suspected corruption in Mr. Smiths. Unfortunately she couldn't retry the Malfoys for the same crimes they'd already been on trial for, and many similar cases had the same problem. Amelia couldn't change the past; she'd just have to make sure she did a better job in the present. And if she was to have the chance to fix things within her department, she needed a way to satisfy the press. She had promised the public that she would do better than those that came before her. She needed something from the past to make an example of. She needed something that would draw attention, and prove her point to the media. She dearly wished she could put the Malfoys on trial, but it just wasn't an option.

She selected a fat file from her desktop, and sat quietly for a moment contemplating the likely consequences of her actions. She tapped the stack of papers on the hard oak of her desk, frowning in thought. If she went forward with her actions, it could be a wildly successful statement to the beginning of her term, or it could be the beginning of the end for her career. She gripped the file firmly and stood up, pushing back her chair, and heading resolutely toward the door.

Bringing Sirius Black to trial would show people that she was intent on following ministry's every regulation, that she wouldn't turn and look the other way. It was a politically motivated move, for she had no doubt of his guilt. Her statement would say that she followed the very letter of the law; the outcome would show that her justice was firm. It had been long enough since the end of the war that bringing up the past wouldn't be political suicide, but could instead be used as a tool for building the future.

As she called a meeting of her department leaders, she could never have guessed that the outcome of her plan could be so radically different than predicted.

Two months later, Amelia was seated behind the center podium in courtroom ten, surrounded by the full Wizengamot. The stands designated for civilian spectators were full to bursting, and reporters for the Daily Prophet snapped photos with a feverish enthusiasm. It was a zoo, which she had more or less expected.

This was something she had to get through before her real work began, but it made her feel like a charlatan putting on a farce for the pure benefit of political advancement. She sighed, shifting uncomfortably on her high bench, and motioned to the Aurors at the doors. They nodded solemnly and swung the double doors wide, admitting two dementors holding an emaciated man between them.

Six years in prison had not been kind to Sirius Black. His hair was long and matted, his frame skeletal, his eyes haunted. She has seen the marks left by Azkaban on others, and he was no exception. Unlike others she has seen however, he did not hunch his shoulders, or look down at the ground as he walked. His steps were confident instead of faltering, and his eyes were searching the stands above him. He spared her barely a glance, his gaze lingering instead on Dumbledore to her right, and on the bench to the left, where witnesses for the prosecution were seated. She thought she heard Remus Lupin hiss slightly under his breath, and felt a stab of guilt for dragging up something this painful for the man. She remembered that he had been good friends with the Potters and Pettigrew.

The dementors deposited their charge in the manacled chair in the middle of the room. The chains glowed softly and wrapped themselves securely around their prisoner. The crowd broke out in murmurs, and then fell silent. It was time to begin.

"Sirius Orion Black, you have been brought before us today to stand trial for fourteen charges of homicide, and two counts of conspiring to commit homicide. How do you plead?"

"Not Guilty."

When Sirius spoke, it sounded more like a croak that an answer, but the words were still clearly discernable. She supposed six years in a solitary cell in Azkaban didn't give one much cause for speaking. Disuse and poor physical and mental conditions had turned his voice unrecognizable from his pre-Azkaban days. She raised an eyebrow at his response, but she hadn't really expected him to confess.

"Very well. The prosecution will present their case and witness testimony will be given. If you have anyone you wish to call to speak in your defense you may do so, any witnesses you call for the defense will be questioned by myself and Albus Dumbledore. Do you wish to have a public attorney, as is your right as a defendant?"

"I will speak in my own defense."

She was happy with that response; she would have pitied the poor bloke who would have been called in to speak in Blacks defense; mass murders weren't usually what public attorneys had to deal with.

The trial progressed with much of the same testimony that had been given to the court after the war being reiterated. Dumbledore gave testimony implicating him in the deaths of the Potters, law enforcement officers that had been present at the time of arrest gave their accounts of the carnage found in the muggle street. Eye witness reports from muggles not in attendance were read and presented. Pettigrew's mother even tottered up to the box to bemoan the loss of her son. Amelia thought she saw Blacks eye begin to twitch at this point. Remus Lupin gave testimony that Black had been spying on the Order of the Phoenix, passing on information for a year before the Potters death.

Blacks' hands curled and uncurled over the arms of the chair, his eye was definitely twitching, and his face looked like he was chewing a lemon peel. So it was a surprise, when it was his turn to speak, that his croaky voice came out sounding entirely rational.

"I request to be questioned with the use of Veritaserum. I willingly submit to being examined with Legilimency."

His words were met with dead silence, followed shortly by the buzz of murmurs breaking out around the stands of the circular room. Amelia blinked in astonishment. The use of Veritaserum during a trial was not unheard of, but as the defendant had to willingly submit to it (there was a clause in the Ministry's constitution that no witch or wizard could be compelled to give evidence of self-incrimination) it was rare.

Only those who were very sure of their own innocence volunteered to be dosed with the truth potion. The use of Legilimency was not banned outright, though some claimed that since it came from the mind of the accused, it was a form of self-incrimination. The paper work it took to get it approved for trial was often tedious however, and there had been enough damning evidence in this case that it had not been bothered with. Volunteers to undergo an examination of the mind were even more rare than those willing to be dosed with truth serum. It was an extremely intrusive procedure, and a skilled examiner could ferret out any memories that had been tampered with.

She was stunned. He had sounded so sane, but was it possible that he truly had lost his mind? She glanced at Dumbledore, and saw that he was leaning forward in his seat, his brow furrowed in a frown, one hand braced on his knee, the other rubbing thoughtfully at his mouth. It was the only point during the trial so far that he had given any kind of reaction. It told her that she was not the only one caught off guard; he was as surprised as she. Besides a vague notion that Black had gone barking mad, she didn't know what to make of it; by the look of Dumbledore however, he was busy thinking through a dozen theories. He caught her eye after a moment and inclined his head slightly; she nodded and stood up behind her podium, addressing the room once more.

"Very well." She said. "You will be questioned under Veritaserum, and Dumbledore will perform Legilimency afterward to confirm you words."

One of the Aurors' present scurried out of the room to fetch the potion required. Black nodded stiffly, and his gaze shifted again to Remus Lupin.

One of Amelia's main concerns when she has begun the proceedings to bring Black to trial had been the hell she knew she was going to be dragging the people Black had betrayed through. His cousin Andromeda was present with her husband; Amelia knew her daughter was still attending Hogwarts. Of Blacks old supposed friends, only Remus was alive to witness history being hauled up again.

A new feeling of uneasiness at the recent turn of events joined her original feelings of guilt for bringing an old wound into the light again. Immediately following her assumption that Black had gone mad in Azkaban, was a small, nagging, and persistent thought that something had been missed all those years ago. She was going over the file in her mind, and she just couldn't see how it was possible. However, this was a world of strange magic and seemingly impossible things and Black had never had his side of the story told. For the first time since he had been arrested, a tiny amount of doubt crept under her skin.

If there was one thing she knew to be true, it was that in a world of dragons, fairies, goblins, giants, and magic, you could never be sure what was going to happen next. If there was a second thing she could be certain of, it was that if Albus Dumbledore had a look of great concern on his face, and if his eyes were flashing fiercely over the top of his half-moon spectacles, any reasonable person should be breaking out into a cold sweat. She refused to dab at the drops forming on her brow, and kept her expression impervious; if this went to hell in a hurry, as she was half expecting it to, she was determined that her picture under the headline not look like a frightened NEWT student sitting his first examination.

The Auror returned, and made her way to the center of the room. The dementors withdrew a few feet, allowing the woman access to the chained chair Black was seated in. She unstopped the small glass vial and Black obligingly tilted his head back and opened his mouth. Almost as soon as the potion was swallowed, Black went limp, his head dropping down to his chest. When he looked up again his eyes were glossy and unfocused, staring straight ahead of him unseeingly. Dumbledore rose from his seat and made his way down to the floor, until he was right in front of him.

"What is your name?" He asked in a clear and ringing voice.

"Sirius Orion Black," Blacks voice was still a hoarse croak, but now he spoke in a monotone.

Amelia was familiar with the effects of Veritaserum, and he showed every sign of the trance-like state it put people under.

"At what point during the war did you begin to pass information on the Order of the Phoenix to Voldemort?"

"I never passed information on the Order to Voldemort."

Amelia felt her heart drop to her stomach, and in the dead silence of the court room, she thought she could hear it beating from where it had joined her lunch. Dumbledore was not going to allow any wiggle room for dodging the truth. He rephrased his question quickly.

"Did you at any point during the war, give information about members of the Order of the Phoenix to anyone you knew would inform Voldemort?"

"I never betrayed the Order. I was never a spy for Voldemort."

Amelia resisted the temptation to sink her head into her hands.

"When it was discovered that Voldemort was seeking Lily and James Potter, you were made their Secret Keeper for them and their child, were you not?"

"I was never Secret Keeper to Lily and James or their child."

Amelia allowed her composer to break just enough to close her eyes and let out a deep sigh.

Dumbledore spoke quietly when he continued. "Please explain, Sirius."

"I was willing to be their Secret Keeper when they first asked me. I would have died for them. But I knew I was the obvious choice; everyone was expecting it to be me, everyone knew how close I was to James and Lily. I came up with a new plan, I convinced James to go along with it. We would tell everyone that I was Secret Keeper, and I would go on the run, draw their fire and create a diversion from the real Keeper. I picked someone we trusted, someone no one else would guess we'd pick; Peter Pettigrew.

For a few weeks it seemed to be working, we hid Peter out of harm's way, and in a few months I had been attacked multiple times. I checked in on Peter whenever I could, tried to keep his spirits up, make sure he was safe. The night James and Lily died, I had gone to check on him. His hiding place was empty, but there were no signs of a struggle. I knew in my heart that something was wrong; I set out for Godric's Hollow immediately, and arrived to find their house in ruins, both of my friends' dead, and their baby, crying alone in a blown apart nursery. I was there with the child, trying to think clearly, trying to decide what to do, when Hagrid arrived. He told me Dumbledore wanted him to take the child to him, to Lily's sister, where the blood wards would provide protection. I agreed that the safety of the child was our first concern.

I gave my motorcycle to Hagrid so that he could travel faster, and in my rage I set out to find the man who had betrayed us. I tracked him to the town where his uncle had lived; I knew he'd inherited a house there. I found him in the middle of a public street full of muggles. I had been intending to kill him for his betrayal, but I hesitated to use magic in front of so many muggles. And he had been my friend. I was still hoping for some kind of explanation of what he had done, some way to make sense of it. I underestimated how far he was willing to go, how evil he had become, and I underestimated his magical ability as well.

He wanted me to find him in a public place, he shouted for the whole street to hear that I had betrayed Lily and James, and as I drew my wand to put an end to it, he blew up half the street. He must have had his wand behind his back, because before I could stop him, he had killed all those people in an explosion, and escaped into the hole he had opened into the sewers. I watched, stunned by the blast, as he chopped off his own finger, and transformed into his animagus form. Looking back on it, we should have guessed that any man who's form was a rat would turn out to be a turncoat. The Aurors arrived almost at once, and I was not in my right mind. I was exhausted, sleep deprived, and grieved beyond words could say. As they dragged me away to prison, my only thought was that it was my fault, all my fault… I never betrayed my friends; but I am the reason they're dead. It's my fault…"

His words trailed off at the end, leaving the room in silence once again. Amelia didn't think she could speak at the moment, her throat felt constricted, and her eyes stung. How could this be happening? She had been angry at her predecessors' deficiency in following regulations, but she had never doubted Blacks conviction. How very wrong she had been.

Dumbledore spoke again after a moment, his voice quiet and clear.

"How long has Peter been an Animagus?"

"Since fifth year of school. James, Peter and I all managed the transformation after two years of studying. Peter needed all the help we could give him, he barely managed it as it was. My form is a large black dog; James was a Stag, and Peter a rat. We used our ability to roam out of bounds at night, to explore the forests and Hogsmeade. We never reported our forms to the registry, to our minds that would have defeated the purpose."

"Do you know where Peter is now? Do you believe he is still alive?"

"Yes. But he would never risk being seen and found out. He would wait as a rat, not a human, until he thought there was a safe opportunity to return. If Voldemort ever reemerged and gained power, he would make his move. He has always sought the safety of those more talented than himself; he wouldn't dare make a move on his own. He changed sides during the war when he thought we were losing, and the very night he showed his true colors his lord was defeated. I wouldn't be surprised to find someone's pet rat had a toe missing from his right paw. I assumed that the truth would come out during my trail. I waited for years. When they came into my cell today, I thought I had finally given in to the dementors and gone insane."

Dumbledore bowed his head, and when he turned back toward her, Amelia was not surprised to find tears in his eyes. She felt a bit like crying herself.

He cleared his throat and said, "I think that will suffice, do you agree?"

"Of course."

She nodded to the Auror standing by with the antidote, and she moved forward to administer the dose. Black shuddered as it worked its way through his system, and when he opened his eyes again they were clear and focused once more.

"Dumbledore, if you would perform your Legilimency screening now, I would like to be done with this."

She was proud that she kept her voice steady. Dumbledore stooped over Black, and looked him directly in the eyes. They remained in that position for several minutes, until, with a deep sigh, Dumbledore stood straight once again and turned to face the seats lined with the Wizengamot.

"What he has told us is true. This man was never a traitor, never in league with Voldemort. There has been grave error within the Ministry that this has gone uncorrected for six long years. Madame Bones, I motion to clear the Subject of all charges."

"I second that motion."

She spoke now to the rows of witches and wizards of the Wizengamot, "those in favor of clearing the defendant of all charges?"

Every single hand rose high into the air, and the snap of the media's cameras was joined by the loud buzzing of the crowd, as the stands erupted in loud conversations. She could see Rita Skeeters' bottle blond head and acid green robes amongst them, and could hardly image what the headline of tomorrow's paper was going to be.

"Defendant is cleared of all charges!"

The chains on Blacks chair disappeared, though her pronouncement had been lost to most under the din of the crowd. The dementors retreated reluctantly through the double doors, and Black stood looking dazed and uncertain of what to do. As the crowd of reporters converged on him, two people got to him first; Remus Lupin and Dumbledore took either side of him and marched him quickly out of the room.

Amelia steeled herself and marched forward to meet the press of reporters who, after seeing that Black was out of their reach for the moment, had turned their attention to her instead. It occurred to her that though today had not turned out as she had predicted, she would be able to ride the wave of this scandal, and use it for the betterment of her department. The mistake had been made by those who had come before her, and she had righted it just a few short weeks after taking office. The fact that it had gone beyond what she could ever had planned for was irrelevant; her risk had been rewarded.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Recovery and Waiting

Sirius Orion Black watched as every hand of the Wizengamot rose into the air, and heard the court erupt into deafening noise as if he were very far away, watching someone else's life get turned upside down. He never heard the words that pronounced him a free man; they were lost in the din of the crowd. He knew they had been spoken however, because the chains pinning his arms to the metal chair glowed softly again, and released him with a soft clinking noise. He felt the Dementors withdraw from behind him, felt warmth return to his heart for the first time since his incarceration six years before. His legs felt weak underneath him as he stood, like his knees were going to fold out from under him. He knew his trembling was a combination of his shock at finally being a free man again, and his severely weakened physical condition. Malnourishment and lack of exercise, along with prolonged exposure to dementors had left him a shade of who he was before. It had been years since his muscles had begun to atrophy, and he knew without having to see for himself that he probably resembled a skeleton more than he did a man.

He knew, in the back of his mind that there were a great many things he needed to do, a great many things he needed to take care of; above everything else, there was one person he needed to take care of. Many of his mistakes had haunted him in prison, replaying in his mind in a never-ending loop. Of all of them, there was only one he had within his power to put right, to do the thing he should have done from the moment he landed his bike in Godric's Hollow to find the cottage in ruins and the baby crying in the nursery; he needed to take care of his best friends daughter, as he had promised to do so many years before.

The noise and the flashing cameras were overwhelming after years of solitary penitence in Azkaban, he need somewhere quite to recover and think, and he needed the help of his old friends.

Thankfully, Remus and Dumbledore reached him before the horde of enthusiastic reporters. They didn't attempt to speak above the noise of the crowd, they simply grabbed him from either side and steered him from the room. They made surprisingly good time on the way to the floo grates for an old man, an emaciated ex-prisoner, and a werewolf.

"Remus, may we use your place? It is better suited than my office." Dumbledore's voice was steady as he led the way to an open grate filled with bright green flames.

"Of course. Sirius, you know the place, my parent's old cottage."

He glanced back the way they had come, where a woman in acid green robes and bleached blond hair was hightailing it after them, her camera man bobbing eagerly in her wake.

"Better go now old friend, if she gets her manicured claws in you, she'll never let go."

Sirius cast a startled look back at her, and noting the slightly manic look in her eyes, promptly leapt for the grate and croaked "Cottage of Remus Lupin", as clearly as he could.

He had never been a fan of traveling via floo powder, and six years of imprisonment hadn't improved his opinion of it. Taking a sickly, malnourished man and spinning him like a top through half of magical Britain's fire places was never a terribly good idea. He managed to get his arms out in front of him quick enough to stop his face from meeting the old fashioned carpeting, and scrambled away from the grate just in time to avoid being stepped on by Remus. Dumbledore followed in quick succession, gliding out of the fire place as if he were a good 40 years younger than he actually was, and graceful to boot.

Remus stooped and helped haul Sirius to his feet, where they stood facing each other in an extremely tight silence. It was Remus who broke it, his voice almost as hoarse as Sirius's.

"Can you ever forgive me, Sirius? I should never have doubted you…" His voice broke at the end and Sirius could see the tears in his friend's eyes.

"It's I who should be begging your forgiveness, Remus. If I had trusted you as I should have, if I had but told you the truth, none of this would have happened. I'll forgive your suspicion, if you will forgive mine."

Remus closed the space between them in one stride, and embraced him like the brothers they were, in all but blood. Sirius could see Dumbledore over Remus's shoulder, carefully inspecting a muggle-style wall hanging as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. However one felt about Albus Dumbledore, no one could fault his tact. He and Remus broke apart grinning ruefully and wiping rather teary eyes. Sirius felt like his heart might burst, being able to reconcile with Remus was one of the many things Sirius had long since given up hope of ever happening.

He heard Dumbledore clear his throat before he spoke, his voice soft, "I hope you will forgive me as well, Sirius. It would have been within my power to bring you before the Wizengamot after your arrest, had I had more faith in you. I will understand if you cannot find it within your heart to pardon my mistakes, but I wish to tell you how sorry I am all the same."

It felt wrong somehow, so see so great a wizard beg his forgiveness. Dumbledore was the strongest and wisest person he knew, and he didn't think twice before striding over to Dumbledore and embracing him as well. He felt surprisingly frail; it was so easy to forget how old he truly was because he had the demeanor of a much younger man. He could feel the man's shock at the contact, before he relaxed and patted Sirius on the back in a comforting manner.

Sirius supposed that having a reputation for being the most powerful wizard of the century didn't lead to very many hugs.

He stepped back but kept a light grip on Dumbledore's upper arms, "I've made too many mistakes to ever hold yours against you. I should never have held back from you in the first place. But you know everything now."

Remus had walked over to the old couch that rested beneath the broad window at the front of the cottage. He sat down heavily and placed a tired hand over his face.

"Yes," he agreed, "you know now."

Dumbledore gently broke Sirius's hold and walked over to perch on the couch next to Remus. He put a comforting hand on Remus's shoulder.

"I do not hold your adolescent misbehavior against you Remus. Your lot in life has never been an easy one, and you would have been hard pressed to stop them anyway. I think we can all agree that we have all made a series of grave errors in our past. I for one think that forgiveness is due all around, don't you agree?"

Remus removed his hand from over his eyes and gave Dumbledore a rather disparaging look before grinning ruefully and shaking his head.

"You mean let go of my guilt and self-loathing instead of dragging it around with me everywhere I go? Yes, I suppose forgiveness does sound better than that."

Dumbledore smiled, and Sirius surprised himself by barking a laugh, it was a foreign sound to him now, it had been over six years since he'd had occasion for mirth.

"We have a lot to discuss," Dumbledore said, looking up at Sirius. "But I think Remus and I can both agree that you getting a shower is at the top of our priority list."

Remus almost sprang to his feet he moved so fast.

"I'll grab you a towel and find you some robes that should fit alright. You should go get cleaned up, the washroom is at the end of the hall, the door on your right."

It had been a long time since Sirius had given any consideration to how bad he must smell. He had long since ceased to notice the grime and the stench of prison, but he supposed that along with being a dreary sight to behold, he probably smelled like the wrong end of a skrewt. He nodded, and almost moaned at the thought of hot running water and flushing toilets.

When he entered the room a few moments later, gingerly holding a towel and a stack of clean robes away from his grimy body, he started in surprise at his reflection in the cabinet mirror. He looked less like a skeleton and more like a cross between a scarecrow and a not terribly fresh corpse. He blinked at himself owlishly for a moment, then quickly swung the cabinet door open and located the item he'd been hoping to find; a pair of scissors. He was forced to look at his reflection again as he hacked at his hopelessly snarled and matted hair. He cut it very short, knowing he could get Remus to help him regrow it later. He and James had singed their hair off enough times in school that Remus had gotten very good at the charm. He carelessly tossed the hacked off lengths into the bin before stripping of his soiled stripped prison robes, and wadding those into the bin as well.

He adjusted the tap as hot as he could stand, and stepped under the streaming water with a sigh of relief. He braced himself against the side of the shower stall; standing under the rushing water and watching the filth of the last six years of his life go down the drain. It was enough to make the water discolored, and he grabbed the bar of soap and scrub brush and vigorously scrubbed away at his skin. By the time he stepped out of the stall, he was pink from the heat and scrubbing at his skin so hard. It was a welcome change from sickly pale and dirty, however. The robes Remus had provided were the right height, though they draped off of his thin frame. He had forgotten the feel of clean cloth against his skin; he had never really thought to miss the simple things, for they had been lost among the larger regrets and overwhelming grief. Now that he had the presence of mind to appreciate them, they were a great comfort.

When he returned to the combined sitting room and kitchen, it was to find that Dumbledore had left while he was away. Remus was standing over the stove, and the smells drifting from the pans he was directing with his wand were causing serious danger of making him drool on the floor.

"Bloody Hell, that smells like heaven."

Remus turned around and raised an eyebrow at him, "Nothing like a few years of near starvation to improve your opinion of my cooking, I see."

Sirius barked another laugh; he didn't remember that Remus had been much of a cook before, but he seemed to have become more self-sufficient in that regard.

He gestured to the table and said, "A package came by owl for you, I didn't open it. Dumbledore had some business at the school to take care of, said he'll be back later though."

Sirius nodded and headed over to the table with a last glance of longing at the stove. He was distracted by the long thin package on the table, and tore off the paper eagerly, guessing what was inside. He was right, it was his wand. He gripped the handle firmly and felt warmth and familiarity surge up his arm. Most wands of criminals who received life sentences were snapped after the trial and sentencing but as he had never had an official trial; his wand had remained in the archives at the ministry. There was a letter as well; he slit the seal of the heavy envelope with the tip of his wand, and read quickly. It was from the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones. She wanted to set up a meeting with him after he'd had some time to recover, to take an official statement regarding Peter Pettigrew. She also informed him that there was to be an official inquiry into the matter of his lack of trial, and suggested that he consider whether he wished to press charges. She was refreshingly frank in suggesting that the ministry would be willing to settle a large sum of money in compensation for his suffering if he wished to pursue a suit.

She also included a pardon for his illegal Animagus status, though he would have to register at the ministry within the month. She concluded by wishing him well, and with hoping that he would contact her within the next week to work out the details of his new status as a free citizen.

He set the letter down and sat at the table, idly drawing his wand between his fingers. She had made no mention of the custody of Arya Potter, but he suspected that he would have to take that matter up with Dumbledore. The old man would never have let control of her protection slip from his grasp; it was too important. He was diverted from his thoughts when Remus slid a dish of steaming food in from of him.

"Try to eat it slowly or you'll just make yourself sick."

He waved his wand, and a glass of water and half a bar of chocolate floated onto the table.

"If you keep this down, you can have more later; getting you healthy again is going to take some time. In fact, a trip to St. Mungos wouldn't be a bad idea either."

Sirius grunted his agreement through the large forkful of food he had just shoveled into his mouth, and Remus rolled his eyes at him in an almost painfully familiar way. Sirius tried to slow himself, but it was barely a few minutes later that he was scraping crumbs and gravy from the bottom of his plate. He gulped some of the water and crammed a large bite of chocolate into his mouth. One of the best methods of shaking off the effects of a dementor was the consumption of chocolate, and though he felt it warm him slightly, he figured he'd have to be fed a steady diet of Honey Dukes finest chocolates for a couple of years before he felt completely better. He suggested this to Remus, who agreed with him, on the condition that it be funded out of Sirius' account instead of his.

"Do I still have an account? I'd have figured they'd have cleared that out after they chucked me in prison."

"I'm sure they'd have liked to, but the goblins have their own policies for those situations. As far as I know, your account was frozen and would have been held that way until your death. If there was no one named on your will, the Ministry may have been able to seize it then."

He hesitated before continuing.

"Are you aware that the Black family vault is now yours as well?"

Sirius rocked back in his chair, stunned. He wasn't sure what surprised him more; that his mother had died, or that he'd been the one to inherit.

"The old hag finally bit the dust then?"

Remus gave him a look for his choice of words, but nodded his head anyway. Sirius didn't grieve for her. He had very few fond memories of his family, and none of them had involved his mother. The Black family was old, prestigious, and liked to think of themselves as traditional. He had often told them that they weren't as traditional as they liked to pretend, otherwise it would have been his father who was the abusive parent. After every such remark, his mother would oblige him by proving his point.

Even though he didn't feel grief for her, he did feel strange about it; he'd run away and been disowned at the age of sixteen, but it was still shocking to be told that the woman who had brought him into the world was dead. It was also somewhat of a relief. His parents had been the source of much of his misery in his pre-prison days, and now both of them were gone. Why the hell had he inherited? He had figured that the Black family vault would transfer to his cousin, and thus to the Malfoy family. And then he remembered the Black family rules of inheritance, and almost started laughing; the last male heir of the Black family would inherit automatically in the occurrence that no other heirs remained. The Black family procedures of inheritance were very traditional in that regard and the magically binding clause took no notice of his name being blasted off the family tree, either. He was now technically the head of the Black family, even though there was no one left other than him. Then he groaned.

"Nooo, I've inherited the house!"

Remus looked slightly baffled by his dismay, "Sirius, I know you have bad memories of that house, but still; a house is a house. I think most people would be thrilled."

"I hate that place, Remus. And it may very well hate me right back. It's been in the family so long, the entire place is infested with magic. And I wouldn't be surprised if it remembers me as well. I wouldn't go back there to live if there was a nice gutter as an alternative. With my luck I suppose the old elf outlived her as well."

Remus shook his head at him in mild disbelief, but all he said was, "Stay here instead then. It won't take much to fix the old spare bedroom up for you. There's not a lot of space, but neither of us has many possessions, and I'd be happy to have you for however long you want; be it just until your back on your feet, or if you want to move in."

"I'll take you up on that. Not sure if I'll stay too long, but at least for a few months. Just found out I'm filthy rich though, so I'll insist on paying rent."

"I can't say no to that. Werewolf prejudice hasn't improved since you've been away, and some of its gotten worse. The registries open to potential employers, so I'm not going to pretend my financial situation has been ideal."

Sirius grunted in derision, shaking his head. They sat for a while, discussing the events of the last six years, Remus doing most of the talking. It felt both strange and very normal to each of them, sitting together chatting casually. It felt as if it had been mere days since the last time they had met, though they talked of the years Sirius had missed. Remus talked of the end of the war, of the current government positions, and of the new Wolfsbane potion that had been discovered in the last year. It was terribly expensive and complicated to brew, but its effects were extraordinary. There had been hope that the Ministry would aid in making it available, but a strong anti-werewolf movement from within was blocking progress; some witch name Dolores Umbridge was apparently behind it.

Sirius was dismayed by the number of known Death Eaters who had bought their way out of prison; an injustice he felt even more keenly then the rest due to his own wrongful imprisonment.

It was rather late in the evening, and Sirius had eaten a few more servings of food, before Dumbledore returned to the cottage. Sirius was glad to see him, he'd been avoiding talking about the one thing he most wanted to know about, because he knew that Dumbledore would be the best informed on the subject. Dumbledore accepted a cup of tea with a gracious nod of thanks to Remus, and joined them at the kitchen table, placing a stack of papers in front of him.

"I've gotten your statements from Gringotts for you, the paperwork naming you the Black family heir, and all the documents for your vaults and the house at Grimauld Place. I also took the liberty of scheduling you an appointment at St. Mungos hospital for tomorrow morning at 11am; I hope you are not offended. We cannot act quickly enough where your heath is concerned."

Sirius shook his head, impatient to discuss another matter.

"Not at all, we had discussed that as well. And thank you for bringing the paperwork as well, that will save me some trouble at the bank. I want to discuss something else, however. No one has mentioned Arya; I assume she is still with her muggle aunt?"

"Where the blood wards have kept her safe, yes."

He pulled a sheet from the pile and studied it for a moment before handing it to Sirius. It was a copy of James and Lily's will; they had left everything to their daughter, and they had left her to Sirius. Custody was explicitly stated that he was to be given full guardianship upon the event of their death. Sirius had known this, he had agreed to it when they had named him godfather, but it took his breath away to see it.

Dumbledore sighed, and continued, "Their will is clear enough, and now that you have been cleared of all charges, your claim will not be disputed by the law. But I must advise you to think about this carefully, Sirius. The blood wards with her aunt and uncle give her a great deal of security, and moreover, I cannot recommend removing a young child from her family. She will not have been told of her fame in the Wizarding world, and her upbringing has been with muggles. Removing her from the only family she has known, to a world she has never seen could be very traumatic."

When Sirius spoke again, he did so slowly; thinking through his emotions and his options as he went.

"I know James and Lily could never have anticipated this situation, but I know they didn't want her to go to her sister; they didn't get on well with each other. But I can't imagine they'd want her torn away from a happy family either. I'm not going to swoop in and separate her from a family that loves her just because I legally am able to. If… If she's happy and cared for where she is, then they can retain custody; but I want visiting rights. She needs to hear about her parents, and Petunia never knew James, she barely maintained contact with her sister either."

He paused and looked up at Dumbledore, "If she's being mistreated on the other hand, I won't hesitate to take her. I know the Wards are strong protection, but we have means protecting her as well. We could put a Fidilius charm around our home, and do it right this time, make you the Secret Keeper, Albus. The wards don't protect her when she's away from her home either, it wouldn't be that different."

Dumbledore actually looked proud of him as he nodded he assent.

"You have thought this through, I see. I can make no other logical argument. Who will decide if her treatment there is acceptable?"

"All three of us together, I think. We knew James and Lily best, after all."

"Very well. I suggest we give you time to recover and settle back into the world first, however. Your appearance, I hope you won't mind me saying, is rather startling, though vastly improved from earlier today. A better haircut, some square meals, and a treatment from St. Mungos should make a drastic difference."

Sirius chuckled and ran a hand ruefully through his hacked off hair.

"Fair enough Albus, I'd hate to scare the poor girl. How about next Saturday? We can pay the Dursleys' a surprise visit and see where things stand."

They both agreed, and the discussion moved on to less charged subjects as the night wore on, and Remus was eventually prevailed upon to break out an old bottle of wine and a tray of slightly stale chocolate biscuits.

* * *

Miles away in the heart of London, Amelia bones sat down at her desk with deep sigh of relief. Her day since the end of the trial had been a blur of meetings, press releases, and damage control. Her department had swarmed like an overturned beehive, and she had been at the center of it all. Their current Minister, Cornelius Fudge, was unfortunately a career politician who was entirely incompetent during a crisis. Thus the bulk of the burden fell to her shoulders. She was proud to say that she was at least better up for the challenge than the Minister was, but she was still feeling the strain. She had barely settled into her chair when her door opened once again, and though she had been expecting her visitor, she couldn't help but feel resigned to the meeting.

"Madam Pettigrew, thank you for meeting with me, please have a seat."

The old woman moved forward slowly, walking with a cane with short, shaky steps before sinking into the chair placed before her desk. Her face was lined with age, and she showed the stress of the day in her downcast eyes, and the way she clutched her hands in her lap. Amelia felt her heart wrench for her; in many cases, Voldemort's supporters had learned their hatred of muggleborns from the bigoted teachings of their families. In this case however, Madame Pettigrew was herself a daughter of a muggleborn father and a half-blood witch, who had married a pure blood man, Steward Pettigrew. She had not raised her son to hate those without pure blood, had not raised him with the ideals of pure blood society.

Peter Pettigrew had not supported Voldemort because he believed in his ideals; he had simply been a coward who believed himself to be on the losing side. It made this harder on his mother, and harder on Amelia, who didn't have the luxury of hating this woman; she could only pity her.

"Madame Pettigrew, I have to ask you; have you had any contact with your son in the last six years?"

Madame Pettigrew looked up at her, and then shook her head no.

Then she began to cry.

Amelia sighed and looked down at her desk, at the list of questions that had been prepared, and resigned herself to a gut-wrenching evening.

"Do you have any idea as to the whereabouts of your son?"

Madame Pettigrew only continued to cry, and shake her head in denial.


	3. Chapter 3 Dursley's Deceit

Chapter 3.

Dursley's Deceit

Sirius stayed busy in the week leading up to his visit to the Dursley's residence; it was not such an easy thing to reestablish a life after six years of absence, after all. His first trip was to Gringotts to go over the contents of his family and personal vaults, as the statements that Dumbledore had procured for him listed some items in the family vault that he wanted no association with. Every dark item listed was collected and sent to the ministry to be disposed of, and he sent them specifically to Madame Bones, knowing that she could then claim credit for their confiscation; it was his way of saying thank you.

He then consolidated his personal vault with the Black family vault; his great uncle had left him a considerable amount of gold, and there was no reason to have separate funds. He withdrew a significant amount of galleons, knowing that the next couple of days would require lots of spending. Before he left, he had a good portion of it changed to muggle currency; if he was going to visit muggles, he figured he should buy some muggle clothes. From the bank he went directly to St. Mungos for his appointment, happy that Remus had at least consented to re-grow his hair for him. He kept it fairly short still, but he had evened out the cut, fixing the damage of Sirius's hack job of the night before. According to the medi-wizard who conducted his examination, the rest of him was going to be a bit harder to correct. He was fed a disturbing number of awful tasting potions, and sent home with a case of potions that he was to take every day for at least the next month, at which time he was to come back for a follow up appointment.

Though his mouth tasted like a particularly potent batch of dragon dung fertilizer after drinking so many concoctions, he had to admit that he already felt stronger. He had potions for his dental health restitution, something to help him gain weight and build muscle, a strength aiding elixir, and another potion that was basically an extremely potent multi-vitamin. He was instructed to eat at least 3 large meals a day, given something to aid his digestive system, and strictly forbidden any alcohol for at least the next month. Sirius agreed to all their directions and restrictions readily enough; most people in the Wizarding world knew better than to argue with their healers.

Since the entrance to the hospital was in muggle London anyway, Sirius made his way to the first restaurant that caught his eye, ordered the largest meal on the menu, and promptly began to follow his healer's instructions about eating ample amounts of food. He was entirely thankful that in his rebellious teenage years he had learned everything he could about muggle society purely to spite his parents. Lily had been a great help with that during seventh year, after she and James had begun dating. As a result, he didn't fumble when paying in muggle money when he was done with his meal. He wandered down the busy muggle shopping street, feeling exhilarated and free. He had refused Remus's offer of company today, he felt a strong need to just get out and do all the things he hadn't been able to before. What others treated as common-place chores and activities felt incredibly empowering to be able to do. Dressed in some of Remus's muggle clothes, he didn't draw any attention in muggle London. He had lost track of the seasons in prison, and was pleased to discover that it was the middle of April. The air was damp and slightly chilly, the sky grey, and the wind brisk; it was his favorite season.

He ducked into a likely looking muggle shop and selected casual muggle attire, trying on jeans and shirts in the changing room, and deciding straight off to buy most of them several sizes too large. With the aid of the hospitals potions he expected he would be close to his former weight within the month, and as nice as it was to be able to go shopping, he didn't fancy replenishing his entire wardrobe twice in a months' time. He could have charmed them larger as needed, but he tended to screw up the proportions when he tried that, and he didn't want to go walking around looking like a child dressed up in his parents clothing. When done there, he ducked into a quiet alley and apparated back to Diagon Alley, where he was able to set his shopping bags down long enough to perform a transportation spell to send them to his room at Remus's cottage.

In Diagon Alley he continued his shopping spree, feeling a bit like a child blowing his first pay check in one day. He had to remind himself that it was necessary things he was getting, and also that he could more than afford it. By the time he apparated back to the cottage laden down with his new robes, books, potion sets, and a large tawny owl in a cage, he was extremely worn out. He fell on the dinner Remus had made with gusto, informed his friend that he had set up an automatic transfer into his account to cover food and rent, and headed to bed without informing his friend of just how much money he was sending him.

The following day he met with Amelia Bones and the Minister of Magic, who turned out to be a pompous, fussy man whom Sirius decided quite early was hopelessly inept. Madam Bones, however, turned out to be a sensible, stern type of woman who seemed to have the situation under control. She informed him of the efforts being made to capture Peter Pettigrew, though after so long a time, she wasn't hopeful of making any immediate progress on that front.

She had an Auror take his official statement of his ex-friend's crimes, and informed him openly that the ministry was willing to settle a substantial sum on him if he was willing to accept that instead of pressing charges. Part of him dearly wished to press charges, but mostly he just wanted to be done with it all. He'd had an idea the previous day, and decided to try it out. Since Madame Bones had been open with him, he was likewise open with her in return. Since he was already wealthy, he argued that those who deserved compensation for the pain they had suffered were his friends and family instead. Specifically Remus Lupin, Andromeda Tonks, and Arya Potter. Madam Bones raised an eyebrow, but agreed that if that was how he felt, it would be done. Papers were produces and signed, and the large sum that would have been his was split into three equal parts and transferred to the vaults of the three people he had named. Sirius was extremely satisfied with himself; neither Remus nor Andromeda would have accepted an outright gift from him, but they could hardly refuse an official apology from the ministry. The Ministry would keep his part of the arrangement out of it, and he allowed himself to feel rather smug about it. Since he was already at the ministry, he took the opportunity to register his animagus form, though it pained him to do it. He had kept it secret for so long that it felt like he was exposing a very personal part of himself.

The remaining few days were spent eating copious amounts of food, (some of which he attempted to cook himself, much to Remus's dismay) and with reading one of the books he had picked up in Diagon Alley; it was a detailed explanation and instructional book about the Wolfsbane potion. He had bought the ingredients for it at the apothecary, and set up his potion brewing station in the corner of his bedroom. He was out of practice with all forms of magic, but he had not been one of the three top students in his grade by luck. It was a complicated potion, but he was confident that he understood it, and was comforted by the fact that if it went wrong there were obvious signs of it, so he wouldn't poison his best friend on accident.

It was the Friday before their arranged visit to the Dursley's, and he and Remus were eating a large breakfast of eggs and hash when the mail came in. Sirius eyed his friend when he recognized the Gringotts seal on one of the envelopes. It was probably Remus's monthly statement, and from the dark look on his face as he opened it, he wasn't expecting it to be pleasant reading. He knew Sirius was paying something for rent, but after that first night when Sirius hadn't answered him, he hadn't asked how much. And Sirius had been eating a lot of food. He had been waiting for this moment since his meeting with Madam Bones, and was not disappointed by Remus's reaction. He unfolded the parchment with one hand while taking a sip of tea with the other, and was mid gulp when he noticed the sum of money listed as his current balance. His eyes bugged out to an alarming degree and his tea was sprayed out over the table as he spluttered incoherently.

Sirius reached out and clapped him on the back casually, resisting the urge to grin and give himself away.

Remus recovered enough to scan the transaction section, "You've been paying 250 galleons for room and board? That's enough to rent your own house! And what the bloody hell is the Ministry playing at? 300,000 galleons direct deposit?"

He scanned an accompanying piece of parchment, and Sirius leaned over to read it as well. It was from the Ministry; explaining that the money was in compensation for the ordeal he had been put through with the wrongful imprisonment of his friend. It also stated that his was one of two other un-named parties that were receiving financial compensation from the Ministry. Sirius was glad to see that that bit of information was included; it would help Remus to not feel like a charity case.

Remus was looking at him now, instead of the parchment.

"What?" He asked, as innocently as he could manage.

"You look like you just pulled a huge prank and are resisting claiming credit to avoid detention, that's what."

Sirius grinned openly, and decided he was bad at keeping things from someone who knew him so well.

"Think about it, Remus. I'm already filthy rich, so it's no loss to me. This is the Ministry we're talking about, the same Ministry that have dumped so much legislative bullshit on werewolf restrictions that it's made it impossible for you to get hired. Face it Remus, you're smart enough and motivated enough that you could have had any position you wanted if it weren't for your furry little problem. That Umbridge witch that's so against werewolf rights has just helped pay for your comfortable life. If that's not a huge joke, than I don't know what is. I split the settlement equally between Arya's trust, Andromeda, and you."

Remus didn't erupt in anger, as he had been half afraid of. He looked thoughtful instead, looking back at the bank statement in silence.

"You're right," He finally said. "I could help other people like me with this money. I could make an actual difference. Thank you."

"You're very welcome! You should thank the Ministry as well though; maybe send a nice card to Umbridge?"

Remus grinned.

Dumbledore arrived bright and early Saturday morning, to find Remus and Sirius dressed in their nicest muggle clothes (Remus's looked new, for a change), and very much ready to set out. Dumbledore informed them that he had arranged an apperation point at a Mrs. Figs house, just down the street from the Dursley's. Sirius remembered the woman from the Order, she had been an old woman even then, and had carried the smell of cats around with her everywhere she went.

They went out past the cottage gate before spinning in place, disappearing with three loud cracks, and appearing seconds later in the sitting room of Mrs. Figs house. If they had not had special permission, it would have been considered as rude as breaking down the front door. An old woman appeared in the entrance leading to the kitchen and walked forward to shake their hands, and Sirius tried not to think of the overwhelming cat smell. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, fighting the urge to take off down the street as Dumbledore exchanged pleasantries with Mrs. Fig; he was nervous and terribly excited all at the same time. Thankfully, Dumbledore seemed to realize this, and he quickly made their excuses and led them to the door, his eyes twinkling above his half-moon glasses.

They were finally on their way.

Arya Lily Potter had always known she was different. She didn't look like her aunt Petunia, her uncle Vernon, or her cousin Dudley. Her aunt had wide blue eyes, blond hair, and a rather narrow face perched on top of a very long neck. Her uncle Vernon was big and blond, with a big blond mustache on his big red face, and shrewish brown eyes that always looked at her with dislike. Her cousin Dudley was a year older than herself, and weighed easily four times as much as she did; he was big, blond, and had blue eyes that got their color from his mother, and their expression of dislike from his father.

She on the other hand, had almond shaped eyes that were bright green in color, and a shock of chronically untidy fire red hair. She was tall for a girl her age, but she was also exceptionally thin, which gave her the over-all appearance of having been stretched out like a piece of taffy. It was not her looks that truly set her apart from them, however; it was the way they treated her. As far back as she could remember, her aunt had loved Dudley unconditionally; and she had treated Arya as something to be endured, like the dust that collected on her feverishly cleaned house. She was there, and she was a fact of life that had to be accepted, but she would never be welcome.

Uncle Vernon was worse; where aunt Petunia endured, he detested. Constant criticism and verbal abuse had been his contribution to her life since she was old enough to understand his words. His favorite word was freak, and he directed it at her often. Uncle Vernon had hit her once; she had been very little at the time, but she remembered it very clearly. She had spilled her cup of grape juice on his work shirt one morning, she had been so excited to have it; she normally got water, but Dudley had said he didn't like the juice, and wailed for soda instead. Aunt Petunia had given the rest to her rather than waste it. Uncle Vernon's anger had been sudden and furious; he had lashed out at her with a vicious backhand slap that had sent her flying backward to the floor.

Aunt Petunia had been furious, for once at Uncle Vernon instead of her. "what if someone at school saw the bruise and started asking questions?" she had yelled. Uncle Vernon had apologized to his angry wife, and since then had restricted his abuse of his young niece to pulling her by her hair, or griping her arm with painful force.

Dudley on the other hand, was a child like her and when he hit her, Aunt Petunia called it 'rough-housing' and cooed over her strong little boy. The first time Arya could remember Dudley shoving her down to the floor, she saw him look over at his father with a hopeful expression, and saw uncle Vernon's approving nod.

She spent her time outside of school helping her aunt with chores and cooking, avoiding her uncle and cousin as much as possible, and escaping to her cupboard under the stairs with one of Dudley's many untouched books whenever she could. She had a small fold out bed, and a light with a pull string overhead. One plastic storage container held her entire wardrobe, and she kept it under the bed. There was a lock on the outside of her door that the Dursleys used when she had misbehaved particularly badly. Her offenses were usually one of two options, either she had mouthed off to one of them, (which she had a bad habit of doing, even though she knew it would mean little food and a week in her cupboard) or she had made something strange happen, and Vernon would drag her by her hair and toss her into the cupboard. He would call her a freak as he slammed the door closed and pushed the lock into place before stomping off to watch TV in the living room.

Strange things did tend to happen when she was around, though it had taken a long time for her to admit to herself that she was the one that caused them. Her teacher's wig that had turned blue mid tirade at her, for instance, could have been anything! And how was she to have had anything to do with the awful case of boils that had covered Dudley's face after he had corned her at recess one day? But then there had been the sweater that had shrunk to the size of a hand puppet when aunt Petunia had tried to force it over her head. And there had been the instance when Petunia had decided to give her bangs, "to hide that ugly scar" and they had regrown to match the rest of her hair overnight. She had hated the chopped off bangs that had gotten in her eyes, and stuck up all over the place without enough weight to hold them down, and the next morning they had simply been gone. At that point, she had accepted that she was indeed a freak, as uncle Vernon was so fond of telling her.

It was the happiest realization of her life, and she had spent many hours since then trying to control the freak occurrences. It had only been a few months, but she had managed a bit of magic; after hours of attempting to turn one of her socks blue, she had thrown it down in frustration, and it had burst into flames. She had stomped it out immediately, but the smell of smoke and her shriek of alarm had earned her the longest stay in her cupboard in her young life.

Which was where she was now, laying on her small bed and listening to the sounds of her relatives starting their day. She had hoped that her aunt would enlist her to cook breakfast, as it would have given her a chance to sneak a bite to eat from the frying pan. But besides letting her out to use the bathroom earlier, she hadn't been allowed out at all. The sounds of the table chairs being pulled back, and her cousins voice demanding more bacon had just let her know that they had sat down to eat, when the sound of the doorbell ringing shattered the routine. She sat up and crouched in front her cupboard door, trying to peak through the crack, as her aunt made her way through the hall to answer it. The door opened, and Arya heard a polite man's voice introduce himself and two others.

"Hello Petunia, I'm Albus Dumbledore; we have corresponded, of course. And this is Sirius Black and Remus Lupin; I believe it has been some years since you've met."

Sirius POV

Mrs. Figs house really was just down the street from the Dursleys, it was a matter of a few short minutes of walking to reach the front steps. Dumbledore reached out and rang the bell, and Sirius felt his heart hammer in excitement. A tall blond haired woman answered the door, her narrow face going from polite disinterest to horror as she took in the sight of them. Sirius and Remus were dressed in casual muggle attire of good quality, but Dumbledore was in a very flamboyant purple suit and boots with a definite heel on them. Sirius hid his grin with his hand; he didn't want to get off to a bad start with these people, and no one liked being laughed at by a stranger.

Dumbledore made the introductions politely, and Petunia's astonishment grew; she was apparently not taking the appearance of three wizards on her doorstep very well. Her face was rather white and her voice non to polite as she responded.

"I… that is to say, we weren't expecting… What is it that you want?"

She didn't invite them in; in fact she stepped out a little and held the door against her side, as if blocking the sight and sound of them from reaching those inside.

"We're here to visit Arya." Dumbledore responded easily, pretending to not notice her less than polite welcome.

"I'm afraid she's not at home. Visiting a friend's house for the weekend. I'd rather you didn't come here again, we're not comfortable with her associating with… with your lot."

Sirius's eyebrows were in danger of disappearing into his hair line at this point, and even Remus's usually stoic face held a hint of derision. Some of their lot? Is that what she called Wizarding people? She began to swing the door shut on them, but Dumbledore prevented her with the simple expedient of sticking one high heeled boot into the crack. His face was perfectly calm, but Sirius noticed that his usually twinkling eyes had gone very stern all of a sudden. Sirius could feel the old man's aura of power suddenly, and the effect it had on Petunia was drastic. She stopped trying to close the door on them and shrank away in apparent fright.

Dumbledore retained his polite demeanor, simply saying, "Thank you for allowing us into your home, we have much to discuss.", and breezing past her into the hallway.

Remus and Sirius exchanged a glance before following their old headmaster into the house. Dumbledore led them all into the kitchen, Petunia trailing behind them, wringing her hands in a nervous manner.

"Vernon, these people are here about Arya. I've told them she was away at a friend's already, but they wanted to discuss something with us?"

She was standing in the entrance between the kitchen and the hallway, and Sirius rather thought that she was casting nervous glances behind her. He was wondering if she thought more strange wizards were going to be bursting into her house after them, when instead he heard a muffled voice that seemed to be coming from the cupboard under the stairs.

"I'm not at a friend's! I'm under here! Let me out!" the angry voice of a young girl was accompanied by the sound of pounding fists, and a rattle of the cupboard door.

There was a moment of shocked silence during which the blood drained from Petunia's face, and Vernon's face grew correspondingly redder in apparent fury. Sirius was torn for a moment between the urge to jump for Vernon Dursley's throat, and the urge to rescue his goddaughter from a ruddy cupboard.

He jumped for the cupboard in the end, reasoning that Remus could take care of the man, and Dumbledore could clean up the mess. He shoved the lock on the cupboard open, revealing a young girl crouched inside; it seemed as if she had been peeking through the crack at the edge of the door. She flinched backward, falling against a small folding bed that took up the majority of space in the small cupboard; then looked relieved to see him instead of her aunt or uncle.

Sirius felt his heart squeeze painfully at the sight of her; she was the spitting image of her mother, though he had never seen Lily look so scared or bedraggled. He shook off his shock and reached out a hand to help her up, but she just scooted back a bit further against the bed. He withdrew his hand and stepped back from the doorway. He wanted to turn and charge for the man and woman responsible for locking a seven year old in a cupboard, but instead he kneeled down until he was at eye level and spoke as calmly as he was able.

"Hi, Arya. My name is Sirius; I was a friend of your parents. We went to school together."

She sat up a little straighter, her eyes widening slightly as she took in that bit of information.

"You knew my mom and dad?"

He nodded and she stood slowly, stepping cautiously out into the hallway with a nervous look at her aunt and uncle. Sirius glanced that way as well, and saw that Dumbledore had drawn his wand. He held it casually, seated at the table in a relaxed posture, but the Dursleys beady eyes were fixed on it, and Petunia seemed to be hiding behind her husband, clutching her son. Arya seemed to gain in confidence once she saw how cowed they were. She glanced at Dumbledore in his flamboyant suit, and at Remus, who was looking as if he'd like nothing better than to commit murder in the Dursleys spotless, sunny kitchen. Then she looked back at him with a fierce kind of hope in her eyes.

"Are you going to take me away from them?"

"Yes." He looked behind her at the tiny folding bed, and lone storage box that contained all of her meager possessions, and added, "That is… I mean… if you want to go."

She turned back to her cupboard, stooped down and pulled her box from under her bed, then flipped up one end of the mattress to reveal that the whole underside of it was lined with books, which she hurriedly scooped up and added to her box. She returned to stand in front of him in the hall.

"I want to go. I don't ever have to come back, do I?"

Sirius thought his heart might break and explode at the same time; he was going to have custody of his best friend's daughter, and it was all he had wanted since his name had been cleared a week ago. Yet seeing her standing there in shabby clothes, holding everything she owned in a box was heart breaking.

"You won't ever have to come back here; I promise."

She looked over at the Dursleys but didn't say anything to them except a soft, "Well, bye then."

Petunia looked as if she wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words; Vernon was stuck between looking furious and exultant, and stayed silent.

Dudley, peeking out from behind his mother, was the only one to speak; he tugged at his mother's skirts and said, "Where is Arya going?"

Vernon looked surprised at the boys concern and simply said, "Off with some of her lot, Dudders."

This just made the boy more confused, "But why does she have to go?" he whined.

Vernon sputtered for a moment before saying "Because she wants to. You do want to go, don't you girl?" Arya nodded vigorously and inched closer to Sirius, as if afraid that the Dursleys would change their minds and she'd have to go back to her cupboard.

"Oh… Bye Arry."

The chubby boy looked a little forlorn, standing in the kitchen behind his parents, and Sirius felt a moment of pity for the child they were leaving behind. He was obviously pampered and spoiled, but the type of damage a child could receive from their parents was not limited to neglect or abuse. Dudley was at the receiving end of a different kind of inept parenting, and Sirius hoped he'd come out of it better than his parents.

"Er… Bye Dudley."

Arya sounded as surprised by his concern as his father was, but she gave him a little wave, and turned her back on her relatives with the air of brushing their dust from her cloak. She marched to the front door, before looking back at him impatiently and demanding "Are you coming, or what?"

Sirius heard Dumbledore laugh behind him, and hurried out the door after her.


	4. Chapter 4 A New Family

Chapter 4.

Arya knew she was not supposed to go anywhere with strangers; that rule was one of the first things children were taught from the time they were old enough to walk on their own. Don't take things from strangers; don't ever go with someone you don't know. She had heard her aunt tell Dudley, and had been taught the same by her teachers. The Dursleys had never bothered to tell her the same, just as they had never bothered to send her to swimming lessons; she assumed that they were hoping she'd drown or wander into a strangers van, and they could be rid of her. As it was, it seemed as if she now had an opportunity to leave with someone that at least seemed like a decent sort.

When she was locked in her cupboard late at night, she had sometimes allowed herself to dream about some long lost relative that would come and take her far from Number Four Privet Drive. There was no van parked on the street though; in fact, there weren't any cars in the drive except for the Dursley's. She looked back at the tall black haired man that had followed her out of the house, and asked where he had parked.

"Er, I didn't drive, actually."

He looked back as the sandy haired man joined them, though the old man with the extravagant suit and long silver beard didn't follow. She wondered what he was saying to her aunt and uncle; they had seemed exceptionally uncomfortable as she had left.

"Arya, this is Remus. He was a friend of your parents as well."

Remus smiled kindly, and offered a hand to shake, as if she were an equal instead of an unwanted child. She decided she liked that, and shifted her box to her hip to shake his presented hand.

"You look so much like your mother; it's a pleasure to meet you."

His voice was quiet and slightly hoarse, but pleasant. She felt her heart swell with pleasure; she looked like her mother! She had never seen a picture of her parents before; she knew only their names and that they had died in a car accident when she was a year old. She beamed up at him happily, if he was willing to volunteer that kind of information, maybe he wouldn't mind if she asked him questions about them too.

The Dursleys hated when she asked questions, especially about her parents. If she asked too many, she would end up in her cupboard with no food, and she hardly ever got any answers anyway, so she had mostly given up. She was deciding what she wanted to ask first when she was brought up short by the black haired man (had he said his name was Serious?) saying something to Remus about taking the Knight Bus back home. She had no idea what a Knight Bus was, and Serious and Remus were strange names. She had heard the old man introduce himself as Albus Dumbledore, which was odd as well.

"Yes, that would probably be better than apparation at this point. Dumbledore said we should go without him, he seemed to want to… discuss… something with the Dursleys."

The way Remus said the word "Discuss" gave it an ominous kind of sound, and Sirius's answering grin was slightly evil. She wondered if she should be concerned for her aunt and uncle, but couldn't quite manage it. She was starting to realize, however, that she seemed to be lacking the same vocabulary at these men; she liked to consider herself ahead of her age as far as that went, she was the best in her class at spelling and reading comprehension, but she felt like she was missing a lot of this conversation. What was apparation?

Sirius stepped up to the curb, withdrew a slender length of wood from out of his left sleeve and raised his right hand into the air holding it. She didn't have time to wonder at his bizarre action before there was a deafening BANG and a huge purple double decker bus jumped the curb in front of them. She couldn't help yelping and jumping backward; unwilling to drop her box to catch herself, it was only Remus reaching out to steady her that stopped her from falling on her butt on the side of the road.

"Sorry" Sirius said, turning back toward her as a middle aged woman with a bored expression jumped down from the double doors, and Remus moved forward to give her an address and pay for their tickets. "That can be a bit startling if you don't know what to expect."

He slipped the length of polished wood back up his left sleeve as he spoke, and motioned her to follow Remus into the bus. Well, it wasn't a strange man with a puppy and an open van door; she didn't know what her teachers would say about magic buses that appeared out of nowhere. All of her favorite books, however, had great adventures that involved a lot of strange and unusual things, and she supposed that a bus that could appear out of thin air was a good start.

The interior was as peculiar as the outside, with miscellaneous chairs, couches and love seats instead of benches. Stranger than the seating arrangements were the people settled on them: first off, most of them were wearing very odd clothes. There were pointy hats and cloaks of all colors right alongside people wearing perfectly normal things. And as she followed Sirius towards the back of the bus, she spotted someone reading a newspaper that she swore had moving pictures on it. Then she noticed the stares they were getting from the people they passed; people were goggling openly at them, staring first at Sirius, and then at her, as whispers began to break out around them.

Sirius found three open chairs with enough space around them to provide a bit of privacy from prying ears, though there was no way to avoid the staring. Remus joined them as they settled down; informing them in a quiet voice that he had bribed the driver to drop them off first.

An older man in a blue cloak and a precariously perched top hat tottered over to them as the bus moved with a sudden bang and a lurch; he stuck out his hand to Sirius and began to wring Sirius's hand enthusiastically.

"Mr. Black, so glad to meet you again, couldn't have been happier to hear the good news! Never could believe it!"

"Daedalus!" Sirius shouted happily, jumping up to clap the older man on the shoulder. "How are you?"

"Good, good! And is this who I think it is?"

He suddenly turned to her instead, peering keenly at her forehead. She suddenly wished she had kept the bangs aunt Petunia had tried to give her. Why were people staring at her scar? Petunia had told her she had gotten it in the car accident that had killed her parents.

"You look very much like your mother, Ms. Potter, very much indeed. Such an honor it is to meet you!"

And he began to shake her hand as well. She stuttered out a quiet hello, and was very thankful when Sirius laid a hand on the man's shoulder and gently but firmly steered him away.

Another man that had known her parents? Something very odd was going on, but she didn't have time to question Sirius or Remus before the bus gave off another loud BANG, and stopped suddenly, flinging several people from their seats. She just barely managed to hold herself in place by bracing her feet on the couch in front of her. The bored faced middle-aged woman from before was back again, looking much more interested than she had previously. Arya stared out the windows as they followed the woman to the front of the bus again, avoiding the looks directed at her, but also sincerely fascinated by the view of the countryside. How had they gotten so far away from Surrey so quickly? She hopped off the bus in front of a small gate and a path leading to a cozy looking cottage. She turned to look at the bizarre double decker bus just in time to hear yet another deafening BANG and see it disappear in a flash. She was determined to get some questions answered as soon as they got inside, if she could just overcome years of conditioning from the Dursleys to keep her mouth shut.

Sirius's POV

Although Sirius had dreamed of gaining custody for the last week straight, he had not counted on it happening so abruptly. He had imagined meeting with the Dursleys and Arya, starting off with visits and then (in his daydreams) she might have decided to move in, and he could have had shared custody. The shocking conditions they had found her in gave them no other choice but to take her immediately, and though part of him was thrilled, he was undeniably unprepared.

He had bought a parenting book at Flourish and Blotts and read it, but that was as far as things had gone. There was no bedroom prepared, no clothes anywhere near her size, and no school picked out for her till she was of age to go to Hogwarts. Yet, however unprepared he was, he knew that even the couch in Remus's cottage was a better bargain than a cupboard under the stairs.

The sun was shining brightly and the day was turning into the warmest of the season so far, and green shoots were starting to poke up through the detritus on the ground. Sirius knew the cottage looked entirely different than Number Four Privet Drive, but he fancied it much better. The warm sun and budding foliage gave it an inviting look, and he watched Arya closely as she looked around curiously, desperately hoping that she liked it. She still looked a bit freaked out from the bus ride, and he belatedly remembered that even though she was a witch, she had probably never witnessed adults practicing magic; she'd only have her accidental magic to go off of, and whatever her aunt and uncle had told her.

Remus let them in, and Arya followed him inside, trying to look at everything at once.

"You can put your stuff down anywhere for the moment; we'll have to figure out a space for you later. You look like you could use some food, if you want to sit at the table."

Remus walked over to the kitchen and started pulling out containers as he spoke. Sirius was glad to see that they were on the same page; she looked like she needed to be put on the same weight gaining potions as he was, and fed as much as possible. He wasn't sure how much of that was from the Dursleys failing to feed her, and how much was just normal growth spurts. At the mention of food, she quickly but carefully set her box by the foot of the couch and sat swiftly at the kitchen table. Sirius sat across from her, and noticed how her eyes widened when Remus began to use his wand to portion out three plates of food and heat them instantaneously. Her mouth opened and closed several times, as if she was dying to ask questions but couldn't work up the nerve.

"Never seen intentional magic before? I suppose you were too young to remember your parents using it." Sirius stated, and she looked over at him with wide eyes.

"My parents used magic too?!"

Her voice was strained with excitement, but her voice was still hesitant, and Sirius suspected she was entirely unused to being allowed to voice her opinions or ask any questions. And then her question made its way through his slightly overwrought mind… She didn't know her parents were magic? He began to feel distinctly disgruntled, and an uneasy feeling settled in his gut. Could the Dursleys really have failed to tell her even the basics of what she was? By the eager but confused expression on her face, he knew that they had failed to do just that. In addition to not knowing of her fame in the Wizarding world, she very likely had no idea that the Wizarding world even existed. Perhaps the Dursleys had kept the information from her in the naïve hope that she wouldn't develop any powers. Judging by the fact that she hadn't screamed, fainted, or run away, she must have already had accidental outbursts of magic.

"Yes, it's where you get your powers from. Your mother was the first witch in a long line of non-magic people; your aunt should have explained this a long time ago. Did she never mention it?"

She shook her head, and looked at him with such rapt attention that he felt obliged to continue. Remus returned and set a steaming dish of food in front of each of them, and though Arya began to eat ravenously, she never took her eyes off him.

Sirius let his food sit untouched in front of him as he continued talking.

"There is actually an entire society of witches and wizards living among the non-magic population of the world. Each country has its own magical government that coincides with the muggle, (non-magic), government. There's a statute of secrecy that forbids anyone from exposing the Wizarding world to the muggle world; the only non-magic people that are allowed in on the secret are those like your mother's family, with a relative who was a witch or wizard. Your father's side of the family had magic quite far back. Some people put a lot of stock in how far back they can trace their magical ancestry, and how 'pure' their family lines are, but as far as magical talent goes, it doesn't seem to matter if you can trace your line back to the dark ages, or if you're the only one with magic in your family, ever. Once a witch or wizard reaches the age of eleven, he or she goes off to school to train their magic. You'll be going to Hogwarts; it's where your parents, Remus, and I all went." He paused for breath, "any questions so far?"

Arya swallowed a large gulp of food and nodded eagerly, "Yes! Is it alright to ask questions?"

Sirius felt another stab of anger at the Dursleys. He didn't know much about children, but his book had highlighted that kids were supposed to question just about everything, and stated that it was very important to answer as best and as honestly as possible, even when your kid was asking upwards of fifty questions a day. Arya had obviously not had that luxury.

"Ask as many questions as you can think of! I'll answer everything I can." She looked like a hippogriff presented with a platter of dead rodents; ecstatic, and unsure of where to even start.

"If my mother looked like me, what did my dad look like?"

Remus stood quickly and vanished down the hall to his room, and Sirius hoped he was doing what he thought he was.

"Your father was about as tall as me, with black untidy hair, brown eyes and glasses. He was a bit lanky till he filled out in seventh year."

Remus returned with hurried steps and placed a photograph in front of Arya; Sirius saw Lily and James smiling and waving happily up at her. It was a photo taken soon after they had starting dating in seventh year. Arya clutched it in careful hands, staring in wonder. Sirius made a solemn vow that if Dumbledore hadn't dealt with the Dursleys to his satisfaction, he was going to think of some very creative form of retribution for everything they had put this child through.

"You can have that. I'll dig out some more for you later; I have a ton from our old school days."

Sirius thought she might cry, her eyes looked very bright, but she just took a deep breath, nodded, and said "Thank you" in a quiet voice. Remus nodded and sat down again, tucking back in to his lunch.

"They look so happy… What were they like?"

Sirius paused thoughtfully; looking down at the picture of the two people he missed the most in the world.

"Your father was my best friend from the time we were eleven years old until the night he died. He was a good man; talented, brave, and a true friend. He also had a knack for trouble; we both did. We may have set a record amount of detentions in school, but we were also top students in our grade. He was charismatic, and he was in love with your mother from the middle of first year onward. And she couldn't stand him from the first time they met until almost the day they started dating. Your mother was the most genuinely kind person I've ever met, but she was also the fiercest. If she thought someone was in the wrong, she'd put them down fast, and then turn around and be the gentlest soul in the world. Your father and I both had rather inflated egos until our heads deflated a bit in seventh year. After we grew up a bit, Lily forgave your father for being a bit of a fat head for the last six years, and they were married soon after graduating from school."

Arya was looking at the photo as he spoke, processing everything he was telling her of her parents with everything she had always imagined about them. Sirius continued after a moment in a quieter voice, "When you came along a few years later, your father named me godfather. I was supposed to take custody if something happened to them."

She looked up then, and though she didn't seem angry, her eyes were solemn beyond her years.

"Why did you wait so long to come for me?"

"I didn't want to wait, Arya. I was framed for a crime I didn't commit, and locked away for a very long time. It was only last week that the truth came out, and my name was cleared by the Ministry. I came as soon as I could, though if I'd known how bad the Dursleys were treating you, I wouldn't have waited even that long."

She looked him in the eyes for a long moment, and Sirius was reminded of Dumbledore's discerning gaze. Whatever she saw there seemed to satisfy her, and she nodded her acceptance.

"Thank you for taking me in. I promise I won't be a burden; I don't have any money, but I can cook and clean and garden. I won't be any trouble at all, I promise."

She sounded sincere and slightly distressed, and Sirius rocked his chair back in minor alarm.

"Actually, your parents left you a very decent amount of inheritance, but you won't need that until you come of age at seventeen. You're a child; for all that you're a very mature one. Children are supposed to be trouble! Helping out with chores is well and good, but you're not a house elf. We're not taking you in to wring work out of you; we're going to be your family. I know we can't replace Lily and James, but we're going to do our best to be parents to you. And I know we don't look it, but we're both financially very well off, so don't ever worry about that. One kid isn't going to put a dent in it."

She was looking at him like she had never seen anything quite like him before.

"I've dreamt of some relative coming to take me away for years. A godfather is kind of like a relative, isn't it?" She sounded very hopeful, and Sirius didn't hesitate before responding.

"It's exactly like a relative. Your father was my brother in everything except blood, and I considered your mother to be my sister from the day she married your father onward. We're more your family than the Dursleys ever were."

She jumped up from the table and ran around the side to give him a huge hug, and Sirius felt his eyes sting. It was a sudden burst of affection, and Sirius stood up and swung her around in a circle; she was lighter by far than he thought an almost eight year old should be, but she had a strong hug. She laughed happily, and when he set her down, she approached Remus shyly.

"You'll be family too, right?"

Remus seemed a bit too choked up for words, but he nodded his head heartily. She hugged him, too. And then it was question and answer time again, though it wasn't personal topics anymore. She wanted to know everything she could find out about the Wizarding world; she knew now that asking questions was allowed here, and it was as if a dam had burst. Sirius allowed Remus to answer most of them, and ate his now cold lunch as his friend spoke.

Although Remus spoke of turbulent times, and mentioned that there had been some fighting amongst wizards, he didn't go into depth about the war, and he didn't mention Voldemort. They were going to have to tell her the full history at some point, but her first day seemed a bit too early for that. Mostly she wanted to know about magic, and Hogwarts, and magical creatures. Sirius was impressed by her keen questions; she had a deep curiosity, and seemed to have good understanding and an excellent memory. He wasn't surprised by this, as Lily and James had both been extremely intelligent. It was mere hours since they had taken her from the Dursleys, and already she was beginning to shine with a deep inner light. It was an absolute crime that she had been stifled for so long; it was obvious that she had inherited her parent's intellect and exuberance for life.

Sirius had done the dishes, and the conversation had moved to the couch as the day wore on, when Remus mentioned that there were magical plants growing out in the back garden, and out the door she went. Remus assured him that there was nothing dangerous growing out there, and they both sat comfortably, watching out the back windows as she flitted from one plant to the next like a honey bee. It was early in the year still, but there were fresh sprigs coming up, and some of the hardier magical plants had survived the winter. Remus sighed and leaned back into the couch, closing his eyes for a moment.

"She reminds me so much of them, Sirius. We'll have to go through all my old photographs, put some albums together for her to have."

"I agree. We have a lot to do now; I wasn't expecting this to happen so suddenly. It still feels a bit surreal to be out of prison, let alone adopting a child."

He paused, looking at his oldest remaining friend. "I've dumped all this onto your lap without asking you. I've been back a week and I'm taking over your life. I can find another place if this is too much, Remus."

"No! I don't think you understand the life I've had since you were put away, Sirius. It's been very isolated, barely making it by from month to month. You coming back, Arya coming to live with us - this has been the best week I've had in the last seven years. I want you both to stay."

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder in comfort and thanks; he wanted to make sure his friend was happy, and he knew he would need help if he was going to do right by Arya. He fetched a notepad and quill, and began to make a list of the things they needed to do, and the stuff they needed to get. Remus made tea and settled down to read the list over his shoulder, adding a suggestion here and there. When it was done, he handed it to Remus and stood up, taking out his wand as Arya came back inside. She was flushed from the wind and sun, and Sirius heard her stomach growl from across the room.

It had been a few hours since lunch, and he was starting to suspect that though she looked like her mother, she had inherited her father's appetite. He waved his wand at the kitchen, and three sandwiches began to make themselves. Arya watched with fascination and sat down at the table as a sandwich floated over on a plate to land in front of her. Sirius directed one toward Remus, and made it bump him gently in the head to get him to notice it. Arya laughed when he jumped in surprise, looking up from the list they had made.

"Show off.", he muttered, taking it out of the air.

Sirius grinned and shrugged, then turned to face the short hallway that the two bedrooms and toilet branched out from. "Arya, what's your favorite color?" She swallowed a huge bite of food, and said "Deep red."

He nodded, "What magical creature would you most want to see?"

"Dragons!" She said enthusiastically.

"Alright, give me a moment without interruption; this is going to take a bit of effort."

He raised his wand and began the nonverbal incantations and wand movements needed to accomplish what he had in mind. It took only minutes to finish, and Sirius hoped he had gotten it right; he was a bit rusty after so long in prison.

The hallway had extended itself by several yards, and a door had appeared in the new space. Sirius walked forward and opened it, to reveal a fairly large bedroom, with three deep scarlet walls, and one white one to brighten it. It was empty, but one side had wide, tall windows that faced the back gardens and let in the early spring light. A door to the side of the room led to a smaller room with a toilet, sink, and bathtub. Sirius nodded in satisfaction, and inspected the closets on the wall opposite the new bathroom; he had forgotten to attach doors to them. He raised his wand again and conjured sliding doors in their frames. He turned in a slow circle, and the room began to fill with things; first came the bed, placed by the large windows to catch the morning light. It was large and covered with plush pillows and a deep red comforter with a detailed golden dragon emblazed across it. Next were the bookshelves lining the walls, none of them taller than she'd be able to reach. A corner desk and chair appeared by the windows, and a reclining chair with a lamp appeared next to the bookshelves by the wall with the door to the hallway. Nightstands, trash bin, rug, toiletries, and a dresser sprang up in their respective places. Sirius smiled self-contentedly; not half bad for someone as out of practice as he was.

Arya appeared in the doorway, brushing the crumbs of her devoured sandwich off the front of her shirt. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a soft "oh!" of surprise.

"This is your room. What do you think?"

He frowned in confusion as she turned and dashed away, but grinned as she came back seconds later, clutching her box of clothes and books to her chest. The photograph Remus had given her had been placed carefully on top. She set it on the desk, and looked around the room with awe. "Is this really mine?"

"Of course. There's not much in it yet, but we'll go shopping for everything tomorrow."

He conjured a picture frame as he walked over to the desk, and handed it to her. She accepted it wordlessly, popped out the back and inserted the photo. She placed it upright on her nightstand, and Sirius knew it was so she could look at them as she fell asleep at night.

"Thank you… So much. I've never had anything this nice in my life."

"I know. And you're welcome, Arya. Things will be different here, you'll see. It will be better now."

She looked up and smiled Lily's smile at him. "I know."

They spent the rest of the day and well into the evening in the living room, going through boxes that Remus had pulled out of storage. It was a trip down memory lane for the two of them, and they reminisced about their school days with fondness. They never mentioned Peter Pettigrew, and thankfully, Arya was too enraptured by the mentions of her parents to ask who the extra man in the pictures was. It had been many years since Remus had looked through the old photos and keepsakes; it had been too painful to do alone.

They set aside the best of the photos, making duplicates and enlarging the ones that Arya wanted for her room. Sirius conjured frame after frame, and when they were finally through all the boxes, they went to her room, and she directed him where to hang them. Soon, Lily, James, Remus and Sirius's faces smiled and waved at them from along the walls; Remus had been furtively hexing Peter out of every photograph she had picked. The thought of her parent's betrayer's face on her wall had been too creepy to stomach.

They had another snack before it was late enough that Sirius suggested she get ready for bed, and she asked if she could use the shower in the bathroom off of her room. Had the Dursleys not let the poor girl use the washroom either? He assured her that it was hers to use whenever she wanted, and conjured a fluffy set of pajamas for when she was done; he had already provided soap, shampoo, and towels. They heard the water running for quite some time, and when Sirius poked his head into the room a half an hour later, he found her curled up in bed under her dragon comforter, looking sleepily at the photo of her parents on the nightstand. He rapped lightly on the door frame, and she looked up.

"Time for sleep, they'll still be there in the morning."

She nodded tiredly, and he flipped off the light and said goodnight, closing the door gently behind him.


	5. Chapter 5 Truth Telling

**Authors note.** Nothing huge happening in this one, but important character development is taking place, especially with Dumbledore and Arya.

Please review!

Chapter 5.

Arya had been asleep for only a short time when Dumbledore arrived at the cottage. Sirius cast a quick charm over the entrance of the hallway to prevent the noise of their conversation from waking her. Dumbledore sat down at the kitchen table with a tired sigh, and similar to his previous visit, he held a file of papers.

"Papers of adoption, both muggle and magical; all you have to do is sign. It was the least I could do, considering it is my fault she ended up at the Dursleys in the first place. I focused so furiously on the dangers that could have come at her from the outside that I neglected to consider the danger of the people that were supposed to raise her as their own. How is she?"

"She's doing better; just fell asleep a few moments ago. She's so strong Albus, just like her parents; intelligent and kind, curious about everything. I don't think we'll be able to keep much from her; she'll learn it on her own if we don't tell her, and it'd be better coming from us than a book she picks up in Flourish and Blotts." Sirius said, grabbing three butterbeers and bringing them over to the table.

Remus joined them, and added his agreement to Sirius's statement. "We need to tell her before we go out shopping tomorrow. People will notice, she'll attract attention, and we won't be able to stop people from saying something that would give it away. I believe she's already begun to wonder, after everyone was staring on the Knight Bus. I don't know what the Dursleys told her about how they died, but considering everything else they kept from her, I doubt it's the truth."

"Indeed you are correct, Remus. They told her that her parents died in a car crash, which is also how they told her she got her scar."

Sirius snorted with derision. "James and Lily killed by a car? As if that would have ever happened." Vehicles that wizards appropriated from muggles were generally padded out with enough cushioning charms that getting a bruise from a car accident would have been near impossible; wizards in general had very little faith in muggle devices.

"Yes, but it is the story they told. I believe that they hoped she would not turn out to be a witch, and when she showed signs of magic at a very young age, they hoped keeping her run down would somehow diminish her power. As if discouraging using her power would make it go away, as if it were a choice. I shudder to think at the damage they could have done if they had taken the abuse further. I ascertained, after much prodding, that it had not progressed further than verbal assaults, neglect, and minor force. Confinement and withholding food was their main form of punishment. Her aunt had a restraining presence on her husband, if not on her son; of the two of them, her anger and resentment was born from jealousy rather than fear. Jealous anger at her sister turned to spiteful resentment of her niece. For Vernon I have no explanation beyond the sad truth that the small minded fear greatly what they cannot understand." He sighed and shook his head sadly, pushing the papers toward Sirius.

He grabbed a self-inking quill and stared down at the small stack of papers in front of him; this would make it official. He was going to be the adoptive father of his best friend's daughter. If James and Lily were able to see him, he wondered if they were as nervous about the whole thing as he was. He still felt like a prankster at heart, not a responsible adult with a child dependent on him. He couldn't afford to second guess himself though; he would just have to do the best he could, and hope that he didn't bugger it up too bad. The muggle documents he signed and handed back to Dumbledore. The magic ones flared with a bright light as he put his name down, and magically replicated themselves when he was finished. One copy was for him, and the other was to be sent to the ministry; he gave those to Dumbledore as well. As Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, he could make sure it got to where it needed to go. Remus clasped him on the back when he was done, and Sirius sat back in his chair with a sigh. It had been an extremely eventful day, and he was tired and emotionally drained. For the remainder of the night, at least, he could relax.

Dumbledore performed the Fidilious charm before he left, including Sirius, Remus, and Arya within the entire perimeter of the property. Anyone else would have to be told the address directly by Dumbledore, who had made himself the secret keeper. Sirius supposed it was a good thing that Remus was already used to not receiving many visitors. Dumbledore seemed ready to leave after the spell was done, but Sirius made an offer of tea, Remus took a fresh case of biscuits from the cupboard, and Dumbledore hesitated only briefly before settling down at the table again.

The three men stayed seated around the table talking about nothing in particular, until late into the night. When Dumbledore finally did take his leave, Sirius wondered how often the man was able to sit in casual conversation with people who considered him a friend. He was the figure-head of the Wizarding World in many ways, and Sirius thought that that must be a rather lonely position to be in.

**Arya POV**

When the morning light crept over Arya's sleeping face, she groaned slightly in protest and rolled over, still mostly asleep. She didn't want to wake up, she had been having a very good dream, involving magic buses and her parents and leaving the Dursleys forever. There had been a man named 'Serious' in it, who was going to be her new father. She blinked and then squeezed her eyes closed again against the bright light of morning. Then she sat bolt upright in bed – morning sunlight was never what woke her up at the start of day, her cupboard was always dark when her aunt Petunia rapped sharply against her door to wake her for chores. The room she was in now, however, was flooded with bright April sunshine, gleaming off the clean new furnishings and fresh paint. She barely managed to contain an enthusiastic 'Whoop!' of joy; it had all been real.

She jumped out of bed, all traces of drowsiness wiped out in a torrent of excitement. She felt like most young children did on Christmas morning. Without bothering to change out of her fluffy new pajamas, she headed out into the hallway, and only remembered to be shy when she got to the kitchen and found Remus alone at the table, reading a newspaper and sipping a cup of tea. He looked up as she paused in the hallway, and smiled kindly at her.

"Good morning Arya. Did you sleep well?"

She nodded, and moved forward to perch on the edge of a chair at the table. Remus folded his newspaper and stood, walking over to the stove. "Eggs and bacon sound good for breakfast?" He called over his shoulder. She beamed and nodded vigorously; the Dursleys had never fed her as much as she wanted, and what they had given her was usually bread and cheese, or the scraps and leftovers that had been in the fridge too long. She had been able to sneak bites of meals as she had cooked them for the rest of the family, but to have someone else cook for her was very different.

There was no sign that Sirius had been up yet, and she worked up the nerve to ask if he was still asleep. "No, he's in the back garden, I think." Remus answered, and peered out the window over the sink as he cracked eggs into a pan. He chuckled at something and said, "Yes, he's found a sunny spot it appears."

Arya stood and walked to the glass sliding doors that led to the back yard and peered outside. Sirius was indeed in a sunny spot in the garden, stretched out on the grass with his face turned toward the sun. Arya let out a laugh. "He looks like a dog taking a nap in the sun."

Remus's answering laugh sounded a bit startled for some reason, and he walked over to stand beside her in front of the door. "Watch this." He said, and slid the door open wide, before letting out a piercing whistle as if calling in a pet dog. "Come here boy, breakfast is ready!" He called loudly into the yard. Sirius sprang lithely to his feet, and then there was suddenly a monstrously large dog in his place. The huge bear-like shaggy black dog came running up to Remus and jumped up to put his paws on his chest; he was nearly as tall as Remus when he stood on his hind legs. He licked him enthusiastically before dropping back down to all fours and pushing past him into the cottage. He sat down in front of Arya and wagged his tail happily for a moment, before rearing up again and turning back into Sirius.

She laughed in startled amazement. "What, I mean, how-?" She faltered. "Can any witch or wizard do that?"

"Anyone can learn how to do it, but it takes a lot of study and practice. Your father could turn into a stag. He and I learned in our fifth year at school, but we were very young to do so. Most people don't even attempt it at all, and those that do usually wait until they graduate. Remus here never tried it, but he has his own kind of transformation once a month."

Remus, who was dishing out eggs and bacon at the counter, threw him a startled and rather irritated look which Sirius ignored. "Every full moon our mild-mannered friend here turns into a werewolf, which is quite a bit different than the animagus transformation that I can do."

"A werewolf! Really?" Arya gaped at Remus, who looked distinctly apprehensive. "Cool!"

Sirius barked a laugh at Remus's expression, which looked like a mix of disbelief, amusement, and disapproval. Sirius turned back to look at her, and continued his explanation. "It may sound pretty cool, but it's hard on Remus. The transformation is very painful to him, and once it happens, he's very dangerous to be around. I know he seems like a decent bloke, but on the night of the full moon, he has to isolate himself so that he doesn't hurt anyone. I know I'm speaking lightly about this, but it's actually very serious. It doesn't help that the wizarding community is very prejudiced against people with lycanthropy. It's not dissimilar to racists in the muggle world, or people who hate muggles and muggleborns in the wizarding world. I wanted to tell you right away, because you'd find out eventually anyway."

Arya nodded seriously, and looked up at Remus as he set a plate of bacon, eggs and toast in front of her. "I'm sorry being a werewolf hurts you."

He smiled, sitting down across from her. "It's alright. There's a potion available now that helps reduce the pain dramatically. I can afford it now, so things should improve a lot for me."

"Actually, I'm brewing up a batch of it now, so don't go out and buy any just yet. If I botch it we'll go out and get some." Sirius said through a full mouth of eggs. His manners were abysmal; her aunt would have been horrified. They continued to talk as Arya dug into her meal, content to listen as she ate her third full meal in two days. She thought she already felt more energetic than she usually was, and knew it was the combination of getting the proper amount of food, and being away from the oppressive presence of the Dursleys. Everything was new and exciting here.

When she had scraped the last of the food from her plate Remus banished it to the sink with a wave of his wand, and he a Sirius exchanged a loaded look. Sirius cleared his throat and suddenly looked very solemn as he turned to speak to her. "We're going to spend a good part of today buying supplies for you in wizarding London, a place called Diagon Alley. Before we head out though, we need to fill you in on a few things. When your aunt and uncle took you, they were supposed to tell you about being a witch, but they chose to lie to you instead. We know that they lied about other things as well, that they lied about your parents. They told you that they were killed in a car accident, but it's not true. James and Lily were murdered by a very evil man, and it was this man that gave you that scar. His name was Voldemort, and he had been in open revolt against the wizarding government; he hated muggles and muggleborns, and wanted only people of purer blood to practice magic. He was powerful and a bit insane, but his movement was gaining supporters; it was a time of war, and terror. I know this is complicated, and you'll learn more about it in the years to come, but what you need to know now, is that you're parents fought against him. They were killed because they resisted him, and on the night he murdered them, he attempted to kill you as well. You need to know this, because he performed a forbidden killing curse on you, and you lived. A curse that had never failed before not only failed to kill you, it backfired against its caster. Voldemort was brought down by his own curse, when no one else had been able to defeat him. Many of the best witches and wizards had died trying, and he was defeated by an infant. No one knows how it happened, but the story spread like wild fire. Everyone in our world knows it, and knows your name."

Arya sat, stunned by his words. It was a lot of information to take in, and she didn't understand all of the implications right away. She had already known that she had some strange powers, so though yesterday had been shocking, she had accepted it right away. But this was something she was too young to remember anything about, and she felt strange about being known for something she couldn't even recall. And it was an awful thing to be known for, made famous by the death of her parents. "Is that why people were staring yesterday on the bus?"

"Yes, and it's going to be hard for you to go anywhere in the wizarding world without attracting some attention. Ideally, if the Dursleys hadn't turned out to be such..." He paused, making a sour face, but went on more composedly, "if they hadn't been so unsuitable, you would have grown up away from all that. As it is, we felt it was better to expose you to it now than to leave you with them."

She agreed wholeheartedly with that sentiment. However difficult to hear this was, it was better than being lied to and starved.

Now that they had eaten and told her all that they were going to for the moment, they sent her back to her room to brush her teeth and get dressed for their outing to Diagon Alley. She pulled a shirt and jeans out of her plastic box and got dressed. She only had four outfits to her name, as her aunt had hated buying her anything. Her trousers weren't so bad, because aunt Petunia had taken her to a small thrift store to get them. They were used, but they fit properly. Her shirt had once been Dudley's though, and it was ugly, used, and too big for her. She was too excited to see a magical shopping alley to care too much what she looked like, but knowing people would be staring at her made her feel more uncomfortable about it than usual. She rolled up the sleeves of her jumper so that they didn't completely cover her hands, made her bed and folded her pajamas before she went back out. Her room looked so nice, and she was determined to keep it that way.

Remus and Sirius were ready to go, but instead of leading her out the door, they were standing in front of a large fireplace that now held a fire, though there was no wood.

"We're traveling by floo powder today, which is going to be rather strange for you." Remus explained, taking a box from a shelf next to the grate. "What happens is that you take a pinch of this powder, and toss it into the flames. When they turn green, you step into the fire, which won't feel hot at all, and say the name of the location you want to go. In this case, you're going to say 'Diagon Alley', and you'll come out at a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. I'm going first, so I'll meet you when you come out. Any questions?" She shook her head, excited to be using magic. "Alright, watch my posture as I go in, and mimic my pose; it'll feel like spinning around, and flailing isn't a good idea."

Remus handed the box to Sirius, but kept a pinch back, which he tossed into the flames. They turned green with a roar, and she watched with wide eyes as Remus walked straight into them, turned to face the room again, and crossed his arms over his chest before saying "Diagon Alley" in a loud and clear voice. There was a wooshing sound, and he was gone. The flames turned back to their normal color, and she reached out to Sirius for her portion of the powder eagerly. He placed some in her open palm, and she tossed it into the grate. It felt very wrong to stride into fire, even if it was green, but as promised, there was no heat. She turned to face Sirius's anxious face, crossed her arms, and said "Diagon Alley" as clear as she could. There was a wooshing sound in her ears, and she tucked her chin to her chest as she whipped around and around, closing her eyes against the dizzying view of fireplaces. Within moments she felt herself falling, and uncrossed her arms in a hurry as she stumbled forward. Remus was there to catch her as she stumbled out, and a moment later Sirius was there as well.

"Not a bit of fear in this one, Remus, she didn't hesitate at all." He clapped her proudly on the back, and she smiled. It had been dizzying and strange, but also amazing. From there to here in seconds, she didn't think she'd ever get used to magic if she lived a hundred years. The possibilities were endless, and she wanted to learn it all. Her hair, chronically untidy, had been whipped about in the floo and was now a snarled mess. Sirius ran his wand over it, and it was suddenly unsnarled, and though it still insisted on going off in every direction at once, it was a lot better than before. He winked at her and said "I kept my hair long all throughout my school days, drove my parents wild."

Remus motioned for them to follow as he picked his way through clusters of tables, and past a bar lined with stools. Witches and Wizards were seated throughout the small pub, but none of them looked too closely at them, and they managed to escape without attracting any notice. Out back, there was a brick wall and Arya was confused for a moment before Remus strode forward and started tapping bricks with his wand, and moments later an archway appeared in the wall. It was wide enough to admit all of them at once, and Arya could see that Diagon Alley was actually a street. It was wide and there were a fair number of people walking up and down the length of it. Shops and restaurants lined it on both sides, taking up every inch of space available. Arya assumed that they used the same enlarging trick Sirius had used to make her room; she had discovered that it didn't appear to exist from the outside of the cottage. Some of the store fronts looked way too small to hold businesses without magical enlargement.

She felt like her eyes were going to pop out of her head, she was trying to see so much. Sirius guided her with a gentle hand on her back so that she didn't run into people or outdoor shop stands. Before she knew it, they were entering one of the many small shops, which turned out to be a clothing store. She was pleased to see that it was indeed larger than it seemed from the outside.

A sales woman approached them wearing blue robes and a friendly smile. "What can I help you three with today?"

Sirius pushed her lightly to the front, and said "She needs just about everything; trousers, shorts, skirts, shirts for warm and cold weather, sweaters, jackets, underclothing, shoes, socks… I just gained custody, so we're going to need pretty much an entirely new wardrobe." Judging by the way she beamed at them she probably got a percentage of each sale she made. Arya was whisked away to a sectioned off part of the shop, and a measuring cord floated around her, taking her size as the woman wrote it all down. When it was finished, she brought over an empty rack, and waved her wand in a swooping motion around the shop. Various items of clothing zoomed over and hung themselves in an orderly fashion on the rack.

"Everything here should fit, dear, just pick several things you like from each type of clothing, and I'll fold them into a pile to go." Arya nodded, and approached the rack with trepidation. Floo travel wasn't nearly as intimidating as this was, but she was excited by this as well. She had never had any new clothes before, besides underclothes that Petunia had begrudgingly bought her. She stood in front of the vast selection for a moment and then set to work, quickly amassing a pile of items to take home.

**Sirius POV**

Arya was led off by the elated sales witch, and he and Remus found some chairs to wait in outside of the dressing area. They had picked this shop because she wouldn't really need robes until she started school, and he had noticed on his own shopping trip that the current fashion among many young witches and wizards tended toward muggle attire. He was glad for that, robes were too encumbering for everyday wear. It was a half an hour later before Arya emerged, the witch levitating an enormous pile of clothes after her. Remus bewitched one of the bags from the store with an undetectable extension charm, and all of the clothes fit into it. He cast a feather light charm on it after an attempt to pick it up, and Sirius paid the sales witch an absurd amount of money. She waved them off with a cheerful goodbye, and they headed back into the Alley. Next was Flourish and Blotts, because he knew Arya was wildly curious about everything, and it said something about her that her only prized possessions had been books. When he had asked about them, she had told him that people who didn't know better often bought books for Dudley on his birthday, and he never bothered to crack the covers. She had taken several of them over the years, and he had never noticed. She had kept her favorites under the mattress in her cupboard, and returned the others to their shelves.

Lily had been an avid reader, and Sirius was determined to buy Arya as many books as would fit in her room. He also knew that she was going to be brimming with questions, and having books to help answer them would be a relief. Most wizarding children her age already knew things that she hadn't even thought to ask questions about yet, and reading would help bring her up to date. He was satisfied to see her growing excitement when she saw where they were headed. He stopped her from running off when they made it through the door, and said "Go have a look around. You can have as many books as you want, but bring them to Remus or me for approval, and we'll make a stack of them for checkout." She nodded once, and then she was off like a niffler after treasure.

Remus wandered off to browse as well, and Sirius settled down in a chair near the door, where Arya could find him to approve or reject her book choices. She kept him busy the entire time, returning every few minutes with another stack of books. First was a pile of history books, which he approved all of, including Hogwarts, A History. Next were books of basics in most subjects taught at Hogwarts, and though she wouldn't be able to practice the practical aspects, he figured it'd be good to know the basic theories. After that there were a few books of mythologies, and he weeded out some of the darker ones. Then there was a pile of books describing non British magical societies, and he was forced to admit that she didn't have the taste in books that he would expect from a seven year old. There were a few others tossed in as well, before she reluctantly decided that she probably had enough to keep her busy for a while. Sirius grinned at her and charmed another bag after they had paid. He would be surprised if she got through half of her selection in the next year.

Remus joined them with his own bag of books before they left, and Sirius was pleased that his friend could now afford to satisfy his appetite for literature. He had always read just as much as Lily had, and Sirius knew he loved it. With their shopping done and bellies rumbling, they headed over to Florean Fortiscues Ice cream parlor, where they bought sandwiches followed by ice cream Sundays. Arya sat facing the alley and watching people go by curiously, and Sirius admitted to himself that there were a lot of strange things and people going by.

Eventually she asked about all the owls and cats that people had with them, and he explained about wizarding post, and cat familiars. They had planned on going home after lunch, but Sirius decided on a visit the Magical Menagerie instead. They had owls and cats, plus a whole variety of other magical animals.

When they left the Menagerie an hour later, a beaming Arya clutched a small black kitten in her arms, too happy to notice the stares and whispers that followed them back to the Leaky Cauldron.


	6. Chapter 6 Old Friends

**Authors Note. **This one is a bit short, but it seemed like a good place to end it. Thank you to everyone who reviewed so far! It means a lot to see that people are reading this. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 6. Old Friends

**Arya POV**

When Arya finally lay down to go to sleep on the night of their trip to Diagon Alley, she curled up facing the picture of her parents on her nightstand once again. She had stayed up late reading one of the many books that now lined her bookshelves in her room. It had been a survey of modern magical history, and she had read about the war against Voldemort that her parents had died in. Now she lay under her comfy red dragon blanket, and looked at her parent's smiling faces. She had never doubted the Dursleys story that they had died in a car crash, and it felt different to look at them now that she knew the truth. Her book had called them heroes, and Sirius had agreed that they were. She didn't know if this made her feel better or not; they were still dead, either way.

She heard a gentle knock, and looked over to see Sirius in the doorway, carrying her small black kitten in his arms. It seemed rather taken with him, and was purring very loudly for such a small creature. He walked toward her, and sat carefully on the edge of her bed, looking at the photograph with a sad smile. "Thinking about them again? About the truth of it?"

She nodded, and reached out her arms to her kitten; she hadn't decided on a name yet. He jumped lightly from Sirius's arms to hers, and curled up under her chin, purring contentedly. "I can't decide whether it matters how they died or not. They're still gone." She felt bad to admit it, because maybe she _should_ think that it mattered more. She had never had someone to confide in before, either. Telling your feelings to the Dursleys in the hope of gaining comfort or wisdom was an exercise in complete futility. It was nice to be able to share her thoughts and concerns with someone who seemed to genuinely care about her.

"I think…" He started slowly, "I think that it does matter, it just won't make it hurt any less. It matters because I believe there is a difference between dying from a senseless accident, and dying to protect something you love, something you believe in. It will hurt to hear this, but I was the first one on the scene after it happened; your mother's body was in from of your cradle – she died protecting you, protecting her baby. It matters because having the bravery to stand up and fight against evil matters. But you're right in a way; it won't -can't- make a difference in how you feel. It won't lessen your grief, and it won't lessen mine. But at least this way you can be proud of them, Arya."

Arya nodded silently, stroking the soft black fur of her new pet, and considering the photograph. When she looked at Sirius, she saw that he too was staring at it, a far off look in his eyes. In a way, he had lost a brother and sister at the same time as she had lost her parents. "Do you have any family Sirius?"

He looked over at her, startled out of his reverie. "I had a brother growing up, but he chose the other side during the war, and then died when he changed his mind, as far as I could find out. My parents disowned me when I ran away at sixteen, and I lived with your father and his parents until I graduated the next year. My family was a bunch of pure-bloods - rich, old, and prejudiced against anyone who couldn't boast the same. I never got on well with them; we just didn't see things the same way. Not unlike you and the Dursleys, actually. I have three cousins still living, but one of them is rotting away in Azkaban (the wizarding prison), and unlike me, she deserves it. The other married a known supporter of Voldemort, though they managed to bribe and lie their way out of a prison sentence. The only cousin I like is named Andromeda, and she was disowned from the family just like me. She married a muggleborn named Ted Tonks, and her parents cut her off without a second thought. I've written to her recently, so I hope you'll meet them soon. They have a daughter that must be around seventeen now, just finishing up at Hogwarts. Otherwise, I consider Remus and you my family now."

Arya gently shifted the kitten to her pillow instead of her neck, and sat up to give Sirius a hug. She wasn't used to touching anyone, or letting anyone touch her; the Dursleys had only laid hands on her in anger. Sirius wrapped his arms around her tightly, and she felt for the first time since she could remember that she was loved like any parent should love their child.

When she awoke the next morning and walked into the kitchen wearing her cozy pajamas and looking like her hair had been styled by a hurricane, it was to find Sirius sitting at the kitchen table, holding a scroll of parchment in his hand, with a great horned owl sitting on his shoulder, and her kitten helping himself to Sirius's bowl of cereal. He looked up from the scroll he was reading and waved her over to the table with a cheerful "Good morning!"

"Andromeda answered my letter today, looks like we're invited over for lunch. Her daughter is home for Easter break, as it turns out, so it'll be a good group of us."

"A break from my own cooking can only be a good thing." Remus said, sliding a bowl of cereal over to Arya. "We haven't seen little Nymphy since she was just a little older than Arya. I suppose she's already of age now."

"Yep, all grown up and graduating from Hogwarts in a few months. Wonder if she still trips on flat surfaces." Sirius said with a grin.

After breakfast, Arya couldn't decide if she wanted to read her new books, or go outside and enjoy the spring weather that she hadn't been able to appreciate from under the Dursleys staircase. Sirius told her to do both, suggesting they all head outside, where he'd summon a blanket for her to lay on to read. Remus said he needed to weed the garden anyway, and their plan was settled. Arya went back to her room to shower and make her bed, and change into some of her new clothes. Sirius had hung them all magically in her closets the night before, and she selected a pair of shorts and a short sleeved t-shirt.

It was strange the way everything fit perfectly, and the colors were of her own choosing, black shorts and a soft green shirt. They were nothing fancy, but they were hers, and she had picked them herself. She had decided yesterday in the clothing store, and then at Flourish and Blots, that she _really_ like making her own decisions. Every moment of freedom at the Dursleys had been sneaked and stolen for herself, and now she was freely given it. She had a nice space that was just for her, and things meant to be used by her, and for her alone. It was liberating. The difference it made in her self-confidence to be able to wear her own choice of clothes was immediate and vast; she'd never have thought that something so seemingly trivial could make such a difference.

She grabbed her history book, which had turned out to be very interesting, and headed out to join Sirius and Remus in the back garden. There was a blanket spread out on a sunny patch of lawn for her, and Remus was kneeling in the dirt, busily pulling up weeds and heaping them onto a discard pile. Sirius, however, had turned into his animagus form, and was facing off with her kitten. The huge black dog was nose to nose with the tiny little kitty, and the kitten obviously didn't know what to make of the situation. Dog Sirius stood back up to his full considerable height, and pranced back in forth in front of the cat, letting out a low, friendly woof. The kitten puffed its hair out on end until it looked twice its actual size, stuck its puffy tail straight into the air, arched its back, and pranced sideways in a crab like hopping movement. Sirius, seeing that he's spooked the little guy, flipped over onto his back with all four paws in the air, and wiggled around in what could only be an attempt to show how harmless he was. The kitten edged a bit closer, before doing his strange little hop away again.

Arya laughed, and made her way to her blanket as Sirius and the kitten continued to get acquainted with each other in animal form. The weather was still a little brisk, and the grass was damp with dew on her bare feet, but the sun was shining strongly down on them. It felt good against her skin as she lay down to read; she'd always been rather pale, but she wasn't sure if that was just her skin tone, or if it was from being kept indoors too much. She had gotten outside at school recess, and when aunt Petunia had made her weed the garden, but it was never as much as she would have liked. The Dursleys hadn't wanted the neighbors to see her more than could be helped, and all the books she had read had been stolen and read in secret. Her life had changed immensely in a few short days, and she sighed happily as she stretched out in the sun.

Sirius was now being chased around the yard by her tiny kitten, which seemed to have gotten over its fright in a remarkably short period of time. Sirius skidded to a stop on her blanket, and flopped down in exhaustion with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. She laughed and scratched him behind the ears with one hand, still hold the book in her other. The kitten arrived at a dead run and pounced onto his tail, attacking furiously. He barked in dismay and promptly turned back into a man, and a very confused kitten was suddenly attacking the butt of his trousers. Arya shrieked with laughter, and Sirius pulled him off and began to lecture him about the etiquette of butt biting. Arya rolled around, unable to stop laughing as Sirius explained that they just didn't know each other well enough for that. The poor kitten contented itself with chasing Arya's wild strands of hair for a while after that, before curling up in the sun for a nap.

After she had calmed down a bit, Arya asked a question about something she had been reading in her history book the night before. "Sirius, was the man who came with you to my aunt and uncles house the same Dumbledore who defeated the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945?" The name had stuck in her memory because it was so unusual, and she had been surprised to read it in her history book. The book had covered Grindelwald's raise to power during the muggle world war, and had linked that with Voldemort's raise in later years. The information on Grindelwald had been much better developed than the book had given Voldemort; it was as if he was still shrouded in mystery, as though people didn't know, or were still too frightened to say more. If he had been killed, why did the fear still linger?

"Yeah, that's Dumbledore all right. Most consider him to be the most powerful wizard of the age. Even Voldemort in the height of his power feared to confront him. Most people don't know that Dumbledore taught at Hogwarts when Voldemort started school there as a child, back when he used his real name, Tom Marvolo Riddle. He changed it when he started gaining power, wasn't content with such an ordinary name apparently. It's also not commonly known that Dumbledore was friends with Grindelwald in their youth, before Grindelwald showed his true colors." Sirius stretched out on his back, getting comfortable before he continued. "Dumbledore has been around a very long time, and not many people remember the early stuff. Between you and me, I think it must be a rather lonely way to be, so old and powerful that you have more followers than friends, and no one left to remember the old days with."

Arya was silent for a long moment, staring up at the blue cloudless sky overhead. Finally she said, "We should invite him over sometime. You, Remus, and I kind of adopted each other; maybe he'd like to join in."

Sirius looked over at her, awed by her ingenuous kindness. "I think he'd rather like that, Arya. I'll write him to invite him over for dinner sometime. I'll give you extra dessert if you call him grandpa Dumbledore, too." He grinned.

She laughed lightly, and the morning wore on with reading and sun bathing intermixed with her questions about different bits of her book. Remus joined them on their blanket for a while before reminding them that they had to get going to make their lunch date with Andromeda. Arya scooped up her kitten before running back inside, and fed him before attacking her hair with a brush in an attempt to get it to lay flat. Sirius saved her by fixing it into a nice braid down her back, and after she had fetched her sandals, and Remus had changed out of his gardening clothes, they were ready to go.

**Sirius POV**

Sirius was a bit anxious to meet his cousin and her family again. It had been so long that Nymphadora would have gone from an eleven year old child to a young woman of seventeen. He motioned Remus and Arya through the grate before him, and followed after a moment of hesitation. It had been easy enough to reconnect with Remus and Dumbledore; he'd just hope that this wouldn't be much different. He had just stumbled out of the grate at Andromeda's house, when someone jumped him with an enthusiastic, running, leaping hug and a shriek of joy. Dora had indeed grown in size, if not in maturity; he toppled over backward and she went sailing over top of him with a rather spectacular summersault. She bounded back to her feet and was there to offer him a hand up by the time he had reached a sitting position. "Wotcher Sirius." She said after hauling him to his feet, as if nothing strange or out of the ordinary had just happened.

"Hello Dora, glad to see you haven't changed a bit. Except your weight perhaps…" She reached out and cuffed him casually on the head.

"See your manners haven't improved either." She grinned at him, and then gave him a real hug. "It's good to see you again, Sirius. I've missed you."

He returned her hug whole heartedly, and then held her at arm's length to get a good look at her. She certainly had changed from the child he had known before; her hair was a bright turquoise blue styled in short spikes, and her ears had about four piercings to an ear. Her clothes were tight, and ripped out at the knees, paired with combat boots and a band t-shirt. He thought she probably looked like the physical manifestation of everything the Dursleys hated. He liked it, it suited her spunky personality.

She turned toward Remus, and held out her hand politely, as if she hadn't just tackled his best friend to the floor. "Hello, you can call me Tonks. I think I have vague memories of you, its Remus, right?"

Remus looked a bit dazed, but shook her hand politely all the same. "Yes, I believe you were a bit different then. Do you not use your first name? I always rather liked Nymphadora."

Now it was her turn to look at him like he was the crazy one. "You joking mate? The literal translation is 'gift of the nymphs.' You know what other words start with nymph? Because they're not polite ones." Sirius was a little surprised to see Remus blush deeply at the comment, and barked a laugh at his friend expense.

Tonks shifted her attention to Arya, who had been standing off to the side shyly. "Wotcha, its Arya, right?" Arya nodded, looking curiously at her turquois hair. "Then it's nice to meet you. Like my hair?" Arya blushed and nodded. "I actually like yours a lot too; it's a very nice color. Mind if I copy it?" Arya looked confused for a moment, before she realized that Tonks's hair had changed to her exact shade of red, and begun to grow long, shooting down the length of her back. She was gaping up at her with a very impressed expression, and the ice was broken when Tonks plopped down in front of her and asked if she would braid it for her. Arya complied, pelting her with questions as she braided the long hair. Sirius exchanged an impressed glance with Remus, not about her morphing abilities, but about her direct manner of putting Arya at ease. She winked at them and continued chatting with the girl, and it was obvious that Arya had already forgotten to be quiet or shy.

A moment later, Andromeda swept into the room, and as always, Sirius was put off at first by the similarities between her and her sister Bellatrix, and then put at ease again by the kindness in her eyes. Her features were bold and very striking, her hair brown and full bodied, going down past her shoulders. Her eyes were dark, and unlike her older sister's, they were stern but kind, rather than murderess and manic. "Sirius!" She glided gracefully across the room, in stark contrast to her daughters charge. He moved forward and they embraced warmly; she held his hands in hers for a moment when she drew back. "I can't tell you what it means to me, to have my favorite cousin back."

"I think I do, Andromeda, truly. Thank you for having us, do you remember my friend Remus?"

"Of course, I'm glad you could come. It's been a comfort knowing you've been there for Sirius these last few days. Dumbledore spoke very highly of you." She shook his hand as well, and smiled at her daughter and Arya, who already looked like fast friends. "Dora, won't you introduce your new friend?"

"Arya, this is my mum. Mum, Arya."

Andromeda didn't roll her eyes, but she looked close to it. "Also known as Andromeda, to people who aren't my daughter. You could think of me as an aunt, if you'd like. I'll be better than you're last one, I promise." She smiled kindly, and Arya nodded. "Why don't we all move to the kitchen, Ted is putting together lunch as we speak." They followed her through a short hallway that led to a combined kitchen and dining room area, and made the proper introductions to the cheerful, slightly portly man, who was Ted Tonks. He motioned for everyone to sit down at the table, informing them that food would be done shortly.

One half of the table had been cleared and set, but the other end was completely taken over by heaps of text books, parchments, quills, and tins of biscuits. Nymphadora rushed forward, tripping slightly over an extended chair leg, and began to pile the books up and lug them over to the coffee table by the windows. Remus went to help, looking down at the book titles curiously as he helped clear them away. "How many NEWTs are you taking?" He asked in mild astonishment.

"Oh, you now, just the regular lot."

"She's taking potions, defense, herbology, transfiguration, charms, ancient ruins, arithmacy, care of magical creatures, and history of magic." Ted said proudly from by the stove, and Tonks blushed slightly. "She's top in her grade, drives all the Ravenclaws mad that she's in Hufflepuf."

Remus raised his eyebrows appreciatively. "That's quite impressive. What are you planning to go into after graduation?" She murmured something noncommittal as she scooped the rest of the clutter from the table. This time it was her mother who answered fully instead.

"She's applying for an auror training position as soon as tests are over. It's all she's ever wanted to do."

"They hardly ever accept anyone though." Tonks put in hurriedly. "I don't expect to get in really, I'm dead clumsy, and my herbology mark isn't where it should be."

"Don't sell yourself short, Dora." Her mother said sternly as Ted began to levitate serving plates heaped with food onto the table. "Exceeds Expectations is perfectly good, you can't expect to get an Outstanding in every subject. And you forget to be clumsy when something important is going on, you've got fine reflexes."

Tonks muttered again and hurriedly began eating to stall any further conversation on her part. Sirius was seated across from her, with Arya on her right and Remus on her left. "Remus, didn't you get an O in herbology?" Tonks went from staring intently at her food, to staring intently at Remus.

"Er, yes. It was just a side interest in school, but I did quite well."

She swallowed her bite of food with a large gulp. "Have any time to give a girl a little help? Neither of my parents took it past OWL level."

"Oh, yes, of course I could help out. How long do you have until your break ends?"

She had another week before term started again, and Sirius invited her to come by any time, assuring her that he'd owl Dumbledore to send her the address. That turned into a discussion of the Fidilious charm and its uses and weaknesses.

Over dessert, Arya got Tonks' attention buy tugging gently on her sleeve. "If you're a shape shifter, what do you look like really? What's your normal face like?"

Surprisingly, it was Remus who answered instead of Tonks. "The assumption that metamorphagus have a 'true form' is one of the most common misconceptions about them. They begin to change their form in the womb, and continue to do so, intentionally or not, until they die. Whatever form they wear at any given time _is_ their true form. It's not a mask or illusion, and it won't revert to something 'original' if the shifter loses focus. Strong emotional upheaval or poor control can lead to unintentional changes, but no one form is more 'them' than any other. Most simply choose a basic form and stick with it for everyday use, because they need to be recognizable to family or work, and also because shifting changes their center of balance. It's why Dora here is a bit clumsy on occasion; it's a common side effect."

Arya was nodding her head in understanding, soaking in all the new information like a sponge. Tonks was staring at him with a fork full of food halfway to her mouth. "Well, aren't you very well informed? If you retain information like that, perhaps my herbology mark stands a chance." Remus laughed and the conversation moved on to other topics.

Before they left in the afternoon, Sirius asked if Arya could spend the night of the full moon at their place instead of the cottage. Andromeda agreed immediately, glancing at Remus with an understanding expression. As Sirius thanked her profusely, he noticed that Tonks had gone silent, and was looking a Remus with a very discerning gaze. She noted the faint scare marks and he knew immediately that she had put two and two together. She had been very young before, and no one had told her of Remus's condition. Sirius held his breath, but she didn't give a reaction, and when the time came to say goodbye, she tripped forward and bid Remus just as cheerful a goodbye, as she had a greeting.


	7. Chapter 7

**Authors note. **Hagird is a hard character to write!

It was brought to my attention that I never mentioned that Tonks is three years older than in cannon. This will put her more in line with Bill Weasley, instead of Charlie. No one else's age has been intentionally altered, so if you notice a mistake in that regard, leave it in a review please.

Hope you like this new chapter, it was a fun one to write! Leave a review if you think of it at the end!

Chapter 7.

Flying Giant in the Sky

Arya's POV

Arya awoke the next morning to steel grey clouds that promised rain later in the day, and a consistent wind blowing out of the west. She sat up and opened the window next to her bed a crack, letting in a cool spring breeze heavy with the scent of ozone. She sighed in sleepy contentment, and drew her heavy comforter around her shoulders, leaning forward to rest her arms on the window sill. There was a soft mewing noise, and the kitten, which she had starting calling Mr. Kitty, jumped up onto her bed, and burrowed his way under her blanket and into her lap. He curled up and started to purr loudly, and she tucked a hand under her covers to rub his belly. She had always liked rain storms, ever since she was very little. She could feel it building and growing; the air always felt charged leading up to a storm breaking, and it always made the earth smell good. Even wet pavement smelled good in a storm, but she was looking forward to one at the cottage, surrounded by gardens and trees and dirt.

Once, her aunt Petunia had sent her out to weed the garden on a hot summer morning, and she had felt a storm brewing in the air. She had finished weeding in a few hours, and had then crawled under the hydrangea flower bushes outside the living room windows to hide and wait for the rain to break. She had been tired and thirsty, hot from working in the sun before the clouds had swept in, and she had known she'd get in trouble for staying out, but she had done it anyway. She had watched the first drops of rain rush down, and had stayed under her flower bush for more than an hour, slowly getting soaked in the warm summer rain. When she had come into the house after getting too chilly to stay out, her aunt had shrieked like a banshee and sent her up to shower before locking her in her cupboard for the rest of the day. Arya hadn't minded – she got a warm shower and spent the rest of the day reading. If she hadn't been so thirsty and hungry, it would have been a perfect day.

Arya thought that maybe Remus and Sirius would let her read in her pajamas with an open window in the sitting room if she asked. They didn't have any big plans today, though Tonks had said she might stop by in the afternoon to pick Remus's brain for herbology tips. With that cheery thought, she closed her window, scooped up Mr. Kitty, and made her way to the kitchen. No one was at the table, and she walked over to peer into the living room area; Remus was sitting on the couch with the recliner out, still wearing his pajamas, reading a book and sipping a cup of tea with the window open next to him. Sirius was burrowed under a large but ragged old blanket in his dog form, snoring slightly from his warm cocoon. Arya smiled and gently set her sleeping kitten next to him, before returning to her room and grabbing Hogwarts, a History and her large comforter. She dragged it back to the couch and settled on the opposite side from Remus, kicking her own recliner out, and cuddling into her blanked before reaching over to open her own window. Sirius woke sleepily as she opened her book, and stretched out his paws into her lap before settling down again with a heavy sigh. She reached over and scratched his ears for him, and he whomped Remus with his tail as he wagged it happily.

Remus looked up from his book, and saw that she was deeply absorbed in the first chapters, red hair tousled in its perpetual messiness where her head poked out of her blanket. All she needed was a hot drink, so he directed his wand to the kitchen, and a few moments later a steaming mug of hot cocoa floated down to rest on the end table where she could easily reach it. She looked up and thanked him, and blew on it to cool it for a moment before taking a sip. It was the best thing she'd ever tasted, and she told him so; she'd had a taste of chocolate before, but never hot cocoa. This was even better than hiding under the flower bushes waiting for a storm; the combination of a good book, the cool spring breezes, and a mug of cocoa might just be the secret recipe for the perfect morning.

She told Remus of the Hydrangea storm incident, and he laughed a bit, though he and Sirius always looked a bit sad when she mentioned being put in her cupboard for any reason. They were both content to sit and read in silence for a while, before they were distracted by Mr. Kitty crawling inside Sirius's blanket, and kneading his scraggly black fur with his tiny but sharp little claws. Sirius woofed in surprise and wiggled free of his blanket, landing on the floor in a heap. Arya and Remus laughed, and he looked at them disgruntledly before shifting back into a man.

"What does a dog have to do around here to catch a nap?" He asked, standing with his hands on his hips looking down at them. "And look at the two of you, like bumps on a log. Bookworm bumps on a log." Mr. Kitty extracted himself from the pile of blanket and walked over to rub his head on Sirius' foot. "And you! I am not a claw sharpener!" He scooped him up and held him at face level, but all that accomplished was getting swatted on the nose.

Arya giggled and Remus said "If you're bored, Sirius, you can go make us some breakfast."

"Me, cook? Oh dear. What did you get for groceries last night?" Remus had ridden his bike to the small muggle town a few miles down the road yesterday evening, and had come back with a few bags of groceries charmed feather light hanging from the handlebars.

"The usual, there's eggs and ham, cereal, oatmeal, toast, I even got stuff to make American pancakes, if you're feeling ambitious." Sirius 'hmmmd' under his breath and walked off to the kitchen, Mr. Kitty pouncing on his feet the whole way. By the angry mutterings and clinking coming from that direction after a few moments, it was clear that he was going to attempt the pancakes. Remus and Arya exchanged a look, and Remus assured her that they had cereal as a backup plan, and that the kitchen was spell proofed against fire damage.

Surprisingly, when he called them into the kitchen twenty minutes later, he had managed to put together a nice meal. They had slightly crispy, fluffy in the center pancakes, topped with fruit preserves, and slices of fried ham on the side. When they had finished the last bite, Arya and Remus returned to their reading spots, and Sirius rolled his eyes at them. "I give up. You two are hopeless." And he shifted back into a dog, curled up between them, and went back to sleep with the kitten perched on his back.

Sirius's POV

Sirius had convinced Arya to leave her book and comfy seat to come and play fetch with him outside after lunch, and was keeping busy running after the stick she was throwing, and bringing it back. It felt amazing to be able to run and jump and leap, and doing it as a dog was a bit less silly than trying it as a person. The wind was picking up speed, and his heightened sense of smell told him that the rain was close, when a distant rumble reached his ears. He stopped mid leap, and tilted his head to the side to hear better in the direction it was coming from. It was coming from the sky, and it was getting louder. It wasn't thunder, either.

He bounded back to Arya before shifting into a man again and drawing his wand, turning to look up at the sky behind him. What the hell was that? And then it hit him; it was his motorcycle. It appeared as a small speck from above, but the man driving it was so big that Sirius knew who it was immediately. He put his wand away and grinned, pointing the flying object out to Arya, "Looks like we have a visitor."

She stared upward in confusion for a moment before she spotted what he was pointing at, and then her expression turned incredulous, "Is that a person?" She asked in wonder.

"Yep, I believe that is Hagrid, coming to return my old bike." They stood silently together for a few moments, watching him get closer and closer to the ground. He landed in a long skid over the field behind the back garden, and came to a rest about twenty yards away from them. Arya was staring openly still, and Sirius didn't blame her. Flying motorcycles weren't exactly something she had ever seen before, and a flying motorcycle being ridden by a man almost twice as tall and four times as wide as most men was even stranger.

Sirius strode forward and clasped the giant man's elbow, (the highest part of him he could reach), as Hagrid dismounted the large motorcycle. "Rubeus! Good to see you!"

Hagrid reached down and gave him a bone crushing hug, which put even Tonks' hug to shame. He felt his breath rush out of his lungs with a whoosh, and gasped when he was finally set down on his feet again, rubbing his ribs gingerly. "An' you, you li'l rogue. Can' believe yeh didn' say summat to meh tha' nigh'. I was ready ter rip you limb from limb! Din' know wah' ter make of it."

"I know Hagrid, I just wasn't thinking straight or I would have taken the opportunity to get a message to Dumbledore. But it doesn't matter anymore, I'm back, and Arya is here too." Arya moved toward them curiously, put at ease by how friendly Sirius was being with the giant of a man.

"Rubeus Hagrid, this is Arya Potter. Arya, this is Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. You'll be seeing a lot of him in a few years' time."

"Ary', last time I saw ye', I could fi' yeh in one han'. Brough' yeh to those ruddy muggles when yehr was jus' a babe, see? On this very bike, too. Sorry abou' tha', by the way. Din' know what they was like at the time."

Arya reached up to shake his hand, and got her entire arm shook instead. "Nice to meet you Hagrid." She had to crane her neck to look at his face, though Sirius admittedly had to do the same. When talking with Hagrid for a projected period of time, it was a good strategy to stand far enough back that you didn't get a crick in your neck. Remus had heard the commotion and come out to join them while Hagrid was telling Arya how much she looked like her mother. Sirius was glad she seemed to like hearing it, because people were probably going to be telling her that for the rest of her life.

Hagrid shook Remus' arm as well, and Sirius conjured a table and chairs to sit on in the garden, with an extra wide bench to accommodate Hagrid's girth. Remus summoned four butterbeers and a mug which he enlarged for Hagrid, before pouring in the drink and performing the spell that increased the amount. Sirius could see that Arya was torn between staring at the motorcycle and staring at Hagrid. Mr. Kitty meowed pathetically at the door until Remus let him out, and then spent the next couple of minutes getting used to Hagrid. Hagrid had a way with all animals, not just the giant fanged ones, though he did prefer those, and soon the tiny kitten was happily climbing all over him. He had on his usual large overcoat covered in pockets, and the kitten had a lot to explore. He eventually settled down on Hagrid's shoulder, hidden under his vast amount of wiry black hair, and sat to look down at them all from his cozy perch.

The conversation had turned to the magical creatures that lived in the forbidden forest around Hogwarts, and Hagrids various encounters with them, when a silvery streak of light shot into the midst of their table. Arya yelped, but Sirius put a comforting hand on her shoulder and said "It's okay, watch it, it's someone's patronus." The silvery mist coalesced into large animal shape, with the body of a lion and the face of a woman. It opened its mouth, and Arya looked amazed when it spoke in Tonks's energetic voice. "Wotcher Sirius, going to drop by in a moment, thought I'd give you a heads up before popping in!" And then it vanished in a puff of mist.

"Looks like we'll be needing another seat and another drink." Sirius said. "He conjured another chair next to Remus's, who stood and went into the cabin, saying he'd grab her a drink and let her know they were outside. There was a pause for a moment, and then there was a resounding crash from inside, and Tonks and Remus appeared a moment later. Remus was holding her drink for her, and eying her like she was a bomb that might go off at any moment. He had one hand half extended after her, as if ready to spring forward and catch her if she started to go down. She didn't appear to notice his apprehensive concern, flouncing out the door ahead of him spiritedly.

"Hello Dora," Sirius called as she approached the table and sat in one of the vacant seats. "What did you find to trip over in there? Nothing important, I hope."

"Wotcher Sirius! If you don't want someone to crash into your draining board, you shouldn't put it so close to the floo! I came spinning out and hurtled straight into it. Barmy place to stack your dishes, mate."

Sirius felt his eyebrows creep up his forehead. "Dora, the draining board is on the other side of the cottage from the floo…"

"As it turns out," Remus said, taking the last seat, "it's directly on the other side of the cottage. It was a rather spectacular incident; she kept trying to save herself, but she just managed to build up more momentum that way. It was really quite impressive."

Everyone laughed a bit, and Tonks just shrugged good-naturedly. "Well, next time I come to visit you'll know to catch me, or at least hide your dishes. You try to keep your balance when your height and weight change daily, it's hard."

"How much does that fluctuate from day to day?" Remus asked curiously.

"Well it changes in my sleep most times, not usually more than a couple inches shorter or taller, or more or less than ten pounds or so weight difference. But there was this one time I woke up about six foot seven, and about fifty pounds heavier. Must have been some strange dreams going on. I woke up with a beard once, the morning after my seventeenth birthday, but I'm not sure if I did that before I went to sleep or not… If it's too extreme a change, I just alter it before I get started with my day. If I'm lucky enough to remember to look in the mirror first, that is." The whole table was laughing now, and she grinned at them. "My dorm mates have seen some things, the poor dears."

Arya leaned forward eagerly, fascinated as always by new or magical things, and asked, "Is it painless to transform, like with animagus transformations, or is it painful like it is for werewolves?"

Remus started, looking quickly at Tonks to see her reaction, but Tonks was looking at Arya, considering her answer. "I think it's a bit of a different feeling then either, because it's something I was born with, and my body is meant for it. It doesn't hurt; it just takes focus, which is similar to the animagus transformation. However, animagi have to force their bodies to bend to the magic, which puts more strain on them physically. Werewolves however, become infected by the bite of another werewolf, and the transformation is forced against both their physical bodies and their will. As far as pain goes, I'd say there's me, then Sirius, and then way at the other end of the spectrum is Remus. It's the difference between it being a natural, learned, or forced condition, I think."

Remus was frozen, staring at her intently as she talked. Arya nodded thoughtfully, and then asked, "Since it doesn't hurt, can you show me something?" Tonks laughed, and then closed her eyes in concentration for a moment, and her hair began to change, the color turning from bright turquoise to deep black, shooting out from her head in dark ringlets all the way down her back. Her face changed too, her nose lengthening slightly, her heart shaped face becoming more oval, her chin slightly sharper, cheek bones becoming a bit more pronounced. When she opened her eyes, they were a deep violet in color.

Arya was suitably awed, and she clapped her hands in delight. Magic was still so new to her, that everything blatantly magical was of great interest to her. But Dora's control of her ability was impressive; she didn't need a mirror to get the face completely correct. And it was a recognizable face, too, "Young Celestina Warbeck?" He asked.

She grinned at him, "My dorm mate has her poster up on the wall. Copying is easier than making something up; don't want to look like some ones drawing gone wrong." She concentrated for a moment and her face went back to its heart shaped features. "This one I made up myself, though. I like it the best." She kept her hair in its long cascade of ringlets, but turned the color bubble gum pink.

"What a diffren' bunch of people we are, don' yeh think?" Asked Hagrid. "Got a metemorphagus, an ex-prisoner animagus, a werewolf, 'the girl who lived' Potter, an me of course. Not exactly normal meself."

"What, you not normal?" Tonks asked. "We'd never have guessed."

Everyone chuckled; they may have been a bunch of misfits, but they were happy ones at the moment, no matter their history or troubled family past. Hagrid began to regal them with his perspective of all the trouble Remus, Sirius, and James had gotten into at school, but it got especially funny when he started in on Tonks' misadventures. He was recounting a particularly interesting bit involving angry bowtruckles and a particularly bad bout of clumsiness, when a loud clap of thunder sounded over their heads, and rain came crashing down in sheets.

Arya's POV

As Arya listened in fascination to the stories about Hogwarts, she looked up at the sky. No one else noticed when lightning began to dance on the horizon, and she smiled happily. The storm that had been promising to break all day was finally ready to burst, and the rain started to come down directly after a bolt of lightning shot horizontally across the clouds, right above their heads. She grinned as everyone scrambled for cover, and trailed behind as everyone made a bee line for the cover of the cottage. There was a jam up at the door, as Hagrid attempted to squeeze through the entrance, and the rest of them were left in the downpour as he strained to fit his bulky frame through. Arya didn't mind the delay, though she knew it was a little too chilly to linger outside for long in the wet. By the time Hagrid had made it through, everyone was drenched, and Tonks' vibrant pink ringlets were flattened and stuck to her face and neck.

Sirius sent Arya off to her room, and she dried off and changed into some warm dry clothes. She stood looking out her windows for a few moments, watching the lightning flash and play across the sky, listening to the thunder rumbling. Dudley had always been scared during storms, he never wanted to be near the windows, to see the lightning, or to hear the thunder rumble like a giants belly. He had always stayed away from the windows, and turned the TV volume up to drown out the sounds. Arya could see how it could be considered frightening, but all she felt was excited.

When she rejoined the group, Hagrid was sitting on the couch, taking up the entire thing, and everyone else was grouped on chairs dragged out from the kitchen table. Sirius was chatting with Hagrid, but Tonks and Remus had their heads together over the kitchen table, which had a stack of Tonks' text books and homework papers on it. Tonks had a blanket around her shoulders, and her drying hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail as she talked about which plants she struggled with in Herbology, pointing to the diagrams on the page. Remus had his chair pulled up close to hers, with one are resting on the back of her seat, leaning over her shoulder to see. Arya thought he spent as much time looking at her neck as he did looking at the page.

Mr. Kitty, who hadn't enjoyed the sudden rain or Hagirds rough passage through the door, was hiding in Sirius's lap. Since there weren't any chairs left open, she settled on the armrest of the couch, and listened to Sirius and Hagrid talk, interrupting only occasionally to ask them to clarify what something meant. Every day she spent in the Wizarding World added greatly to the information she needed to be able to understand casual conversations between wizards. She couldn't imagine how hard it would have been to go straight from muggles to Hogwarts, not knowing half the vocabulary needed to understand the basics of everyday life among wizards and witches.

When time for dinner rolled around, everyone was invited to stay, and Tonks insisted on helping Remus cook for everyone. She was actually a very good cook, and whipped up a lot of tasty dishes from the ingredients they already had. Remus was relegated to damage control, hovering behind her and preventing disaster from tipped over dishes, spilled pasta, and the general hurricane that tended to spring up in Tonks' wake. His expression as they all sat down to eat at the magically extended table was one of slight alarm, and he positively jumped when Tonks brushed against him reaching for the potatoes. Arya didn't know what to make of it. Tonks was a bit startling to be around, but Sirius wasn't jumpy around her. Arya shook her head at the odd behavior of adults, and dug into her dinner with great enthusiasm; food was still somewhat of a novelty to her.

Molly Weasley's POV

Miles away, the same storm that was breaking over the small cottage where Arya lived with her small assortment of adopted family and friends was breaking over the Burrow. Molly Weasley had finished cooking dinner, and every one of her seven children was seated at the table, eating enough food to feed a small army. Even Ginny, her youngest child and only girl, could pack away an amazing amount of food. She was just grateful to be able to sit down for a moment, and meals were one of the rare times in a day where she wasn't obliged to go chasing off after one of her brood or another. Even with her three eldest children home from Hogwarts on break to lend a helping hand, her four youngest children were a handful. She would be a bit relieved when the twins started school in a few years; they never let her have a moment of peace without having to be suspicious of their motives to remain quiet and unseen.

Her husband Arthur was home from work now as well and she was able to sit back and finally pick up the copy of the Daily Prophet that had been delivered that morning. She had been following along with the Black-Pettigrew scandal in her spare moments, and news was still leaking out about the events that had taken place in the courtroom that day. Apparently the ministry had leaned on the Prophet to not report certain parts of the proceeding, due to the sensitive nature of the information. Today however, the front page was taken up by a large piece done by a reporter name Rita Skeeter, and the headline boasted of new details only just released. Molly was personally a bit skeptical about that woman's fact checking abilities, but she scanned the article anyway.

She had made it halfway through the report, and Ginny had thrown a handful of carrots at Percy, probably at the urging of the twins, when she read a sentence that made her heart freeze in her chest. Skeeter wrote that Peter Pettigrew, in addition to being the traitor responsible for the deaths of so many, was also an illegal animagus. Black had reportedly told the court, under the influence of truth serum, that he wouldn't be surprised to find that someone's pet rat was missing a toe from their paw. That Pettigrew would have found someplace safe to hide, and lay low while waiting to hear news about his old master gaining strength. Pettigrew had spied on the Order of the Phoenix, and had given information to the death eaters that had cost the lives of many of its members. Her brothers, for instance, had been on a mission that no one outside of the order had been supposed to know about. It had been assumed that Black had leaked that information, but it had turned out to be Peter. They had been ambushed and killed brutally. And it had been because of Peter's betrayal.

She thought back, trying to remember when it was that Percy had found Scabbers in the garden, and insisted on keeping him as a pet. It had been a little over six years ago, if her memory was correct. The timing added up. She handed the paper to her husband, pointed to the passage she wanted him to read. He scanned it curiously, and then froze, his spoon of stew raised above his bowl.

Molly leaned over to him and whispered, "Keep the children in here, and don't let anyone through that door until I tell you that the rats in his cage, understand?" He moved as if to stop her, but the twins had chosen that moment to upend the gravy boat onto Percy's lap, and she took advantage of his moment of distraction, heading up the stairs to Percy's room at a quick walk. She drew her wand from her flour covered apron pocket, and paused outside of his door. She entered as casually as she could, and made as if to tidy the bed, casting a nonverbal spell over the door and window to seal them shut. Then she turned to face Scabbers the rat, who was curled up on Percy's desk chair, sound asleep. She felt curiously blank, as if she moved in a dream world, as she raised her wand and silently cast the spell that would reverse an animagus transformation. She thought for a split second that her fear had been for nothing, but then the rat began to writhe. It rose into the air and began to squeal and expand, until a stooped, rat-faced man was writhing in his place.

Peter Pettigrew looked up at her, and his eyes darted around the room in panic. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and Molly discovered that she had no desire to hear the rat squeal any longer. Her stunner hit him full in the face, and he keeled over with a loud thud. Silvery ropes sprang from her wand and cocooned him from head to foot, he wouldn't be waking for a good long while, but when he did, he'd find that transforming into a rat would not be enough to save him from these ropes. That taken care of, she directed her wand out the window, and her lioness patronus streaked into the night, on its way to alert the ministry of Pettigrews capture. She spared Peter one last look of disgust before stepping over his inert body, and heading back to her kitchen.

"Molly, is that you?" Arthur's voice sounded strained, and she could hear the kids squabbling at the table.

"It's me Arthur, the rats in its cage and I've sent a patronus to alert the ministry." She entered the kitchen and broke apart the squabble between Ginny and Ron. Arthur had been sitting with his wand pointed at the door, and he lowered it with a sigh of relief. "They should be here any moment, I should think. Let's get the kids into the living room; they don't need to see a bunch of aurors go parading by."

She ushered the younger children into the living room, though Bill, Charlie and Percy hung back, asking what was going on. She told them that she needed their help looking after the little ones, and promised to tell them later, after the others were asleep. They nodded seriously, and joined their younger siblings in the living room.

There was the sound of people appariting at the front gate, and Arthur swung the front door open, admitting two men and a woman wearing auror robes, Arthur knew the one who seemed to be in charge from work, and introduced him as Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was a tall black man with a golden hoop earring in one ear, and a shaved head. "You're patronus said you had apprehended Peter Pettigrew?" He asked. He had a deep, calm voice, and Molly didn't feel as if he was mocking her. She had been slightly apprehensive that they wouldn't take her seriously, in her kitchen apron and second hand robes.

"I've got him stunned and tied up in one of the upstairs bedrooms. I'd just read the article as we sat down for dinner, and the thought of leaving him for one more moment free in my house, with my children… I didn't want to wait." He nodded solemnly, and she led him up to Percy's room, Arthur and the other two aurors following behind. Kingsley raised his wand before opening the door. His eyebrows rose as he saw Pettigrew inside, unconscious on the floor and contained in enchanted silvery ropes.

"Very nice work, Mrs. Weasley." He raised his wand and Pettigrew floated into the air before them, and drifted until his head was closest to them. He bent slightly to examine him, and nodded his head at his two companions. "It's him. We'll apperate him directly to the containment facility at the ministry. Mrs. Weasley, if we could leave directly from here? I don't wish to risk taking him outside, or wasting any time taking him in."

"Of course, do whatever you must. Do I need to come along?"

He nodded his head, "Yes, to give a statement, and receive the reward money for his capture. If you would floo to the atrium, someone at the front desk will be notified to escort you to my office. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but I'd prefer to get this over with quickly."

"I would prefer that as well, Mr. Shacklebolt. I'll be along shortly." He nodded curtly, and grabbed hold of Pettigrew before disappearing with a loud crack. His companions followed on his heels, and Molly and Arthur were left standing in Percy's room alone together. She walked forward and Arthur wrapped his arms around her comfortingly.

"You'll put the little ones to bed for me? And you'll need to explain things to our first three, Arthur. Percy will be confused and upset… I can hardly believe it, all this time, living in our house, alone with our kids… Oh Arthur, what if something had happened to them? What it he'd hurt them?"

He rocked her gently, rubbing circles on her back. "It's alright Molly, you got him. He won't be hurting anyone else ever again."

She had pulled herself together again a few minutes later, and changed out of her apron before flooing to the ministry, leaving Arthur to explain to the kids that she'd be back by the morning. She had a long night in front of her, and when all she wanted to do was tuck her children into bed and reassure herself that they were really safe. This night had been an ugly reminder of the war six years ago, and she never wanted to feel that frozen fear in her chest again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Authors Note. **It"s finally here! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I appreciate it a lot. And thank you to my proof reader as well!

Review if you get the chance, and I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 8.

A Full Day Out

Arya's POV

Hagrid had long since left for home, and Arya was nodding off on the couch, trying to keep her eyes open to keep reading, when a knock on the door sounded above the noise of the storm still raging outside. Arya raised her head from where it had fallen on top of her book, and blinked tiredly at the entrance to the cottage. According to Sirius, there was a very limited number of people that would be able to reach them here, due to the charm Dumbledore had cast over the residence. He hadn't explained why such protection had been necessary, and from the way he had changed the topic afterward, she suspected it had something to do with her. Remus and Tonks looked up from where they were still seated at the table, though they had long since moved on from discussing herbology. Sirius came out of the kitchen where he had been cleaning the mess left over from dinner, and answered the door curiously. Arya became fully awake when a tall man with a long silver beard, bright blue robes, and a very powerful presence strode into the cottage. She recognized him from her aunt and uncles house; this could only be Albus Dumbledore.

"Albus! This is a surprise, come on in. What's going on?" Sirius stood back to let the man sweep into the room, and swung the door closed behind him.

"There is news you must hear tonight. I didn't want you to find out in the morning papers." Dumbledore swept a look around the cottage, eyes lingering on Arya for a moment from above his half-moon spectacles, before he turned back to Sirius and clasped a hand on his shoulder. "Peter Pettigrew has been apprehended. He's being detained in a holding cell at the Ministry; there will be a trial this time. Amelia Bones won't repeat the mistakes of the past, and you will surely be asked to testify. The papers have already been filed to gain permission to use Legimancy on Peter during the trial, I have no doubt they will go through, and I will interrogate him myself."

Arya had been watching Sirius's face as Dumbledore talked, and she saw clearly the play of emotions cross his face. She saw rage, pain, and relief flash in his eyes; though she thought the dominant emotion might be the rage. Sirius had never talked in detail about his time in prison, only enough for her to learn that he had been framed by someone, and that in the rush at the end of the war, he had never been brought to trial. She had seen his reluctance to say any more, so she hadn't asked about the man whose crimes he had taken the fall for. From what Dumbledore had just said, she deduced that it had been this Peter Pettigrew, though she had never heard the name before.

Remus and Tonks stood up from the table, and Remus put his arm around Sirius's shoulder. "Where was he, Dumbledore? How did the aurors find him?" Remus also sounded tense.

"The aurors didn't find him. As it turns out, Sirius, your statement during your trial was entirely correct – he found a wizarding family and became a pet, waiting and listening for news. The details of the trial were released today- you must have seen it in the paper. Molly Weasley read the Prophet this evening, and became suspicious of her son's pet rat, which had been found by the young boy in the back garden just over six years ago. She forced a transformation, stunned him, and alerted the ministry."

"Why hadn't he run away when Sirius was released from Azkaban? I'd have thought he'd have made a break for it at the first notice of him being out. It's been a week and a half now." Tonks asked, coming to stand on Remus's other side. Arya wasn't sure she should be listening, but was determined to stay and listen until directly ordered out, which she had a feeling she would be if Sirius saw she was awake. Her taste of freedom and access to information had only given her an appetite for more, and she didn't think she'd like it now if she was told to leave. Dumbledore had seen that she was awake, but the others had been distracted, so she put her head down on her book again and opened her mouth slightly, producing a light snoring sound, and hoped that the old man would keep his mouth shut about it.

"It appears that he had gotten complacent. For the first few years he kept up with the news, but as time wore on he grew lazy. The boy who kept him as a pet was studious and quiet, and kept him in his room over the holiday break; he never overheard about the trial. If he'd been kept in the dining room, for instance, he surely would have heard Molly and Arthur talking about the trial and attempted to escape before news leaked of his abilities. I can only imagine how bitterly he regrets his slackness now."

"After all these years… He will finally pay for what he did. Azkaban isn't enough, Albus. He should die, like Lily and James died. He sold their lives for his chance at glory, and he should pay as they have." Sirius's voice sounded rough in her ears, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. He'd sold their lives? What did that mean?

"He should die for Lily and James, Sirius? Or for you?" Dumbledore's voice was soft.

"Both, Dumbledore! I spent six years in hell for his crimes!" Sirius's voice was strained, and Arya could tell he was struggling not to shout. She had never witnessed him losing control before; the amount of passionate rage in his voice was frightening. "He's the reason Arya will never know her parents; if things had worked out as he'd planned, she'd be dead as well. He sent Voldemort to kill the infant child of his best friends! He's a monster, Dumbledore."

"I know, Sirius, I know. And the ministry will sentence him as they see fit, I will not be shocked if they opt for the Dementors Kiss. But I urge you not to get caught up in your desire for vengeance if things do not go as you wish! You are no longer a reckless school boy who can risk the well-being of others for his own reasons. You are a parent now, so think like one! What do you suppose Lily and James would care more about; retribution, or the well-being of their daughter?"

There was a loaded silence for several moments, and when Sirius answered, his voice had lost its edge of rage. "Of course you're right, Albus. I need to stop thinking of my own wants. Yet sometimes I think it was only my thoughts of revenge and the knowledge of my own innocence, which kept me sane in that place. It's hard to let go of six years' worth of plotting for retaliation."

"He'll get what he deserves, Sirius." Came Remus's voice. "And we'll be there to see it happen."

Arya heard Tonks say her goodbyes to Remus, Sirius, and Dumbledore, and head home through the floo to tell her parents the news. Her head felt heavy on the open pages of her book, and her fake snoring noises felt like they might become real at any moment. It was rather late, and her eyes felt like they were too heavy to open. Her last thought, before she drifted off to sleep for real, was that Sirius had implied that Pettigrew had betrayed her parents, but that Voldemort had specifically targeted her. Sirius had said days ago that they had died protecting her, but what in the world could have prompted the most powerful dark wizard of the modern world to target an infant?

She was only vaguely aware when Sirius scooped her up in his arms, and carried her to her room to sleep.

Sirius's POV

After Dumbledore had left, Sirius carried a sleeping Arya to her bed, and set the large book she had been using as a pillow down on her bedside table. He sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes, looking down at her resting face in the light of the growing moon shining in through the windows. He had been a mess of emotions since Dumbledore had announced the news of Pettigrew's capture, and looking at Arya helped calm his mind and remind him of what was actually important. He wanted Pettigrew to suffer – he couldn't help but feel that way, but in the end, as long as he was prevented from causing any more damage, his fate was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered now was keeping Arya safe, and whether Peter was sent to prison for life or given the Dementors Kiss, he could do no further harm to the girl.

He tucked the blankets up over her shoulders, and kissed her temple lightly before leaving the room, and joining Remus at the kitchen table. His friend had a bottle of fire whiskey and two glasses on the table, and he poured each of them a healthy measure as Sirius sat down. He handed one over to Sirius, and paused thoughtfully for a moment, before raising his glass and offering an appropriate toast, "To Molly Weasley." Sirius grinned for a moment before downing the shot in one gulp. Remus poured them both another and this one they sipped, leaning back in their chairs tiredly.

"Who is Molly Weasley, anyway? The name does sound familiar, but I can't place it." Sirius said.

"Her maiden name is Prewet, we knew her brothers Gideon and Fabien from the Order. She and her husband had several small children during the war, so they were never directly involved in Order business. You remember her brothers died when their hidden location was ambushed? Took down five death eater with them. Their location was supposed to be known only to order members, but it was leaked by Peter. So in a way, Molly had as much right to the bastard as we did."

Sirius grunted, remembering the twin brothers who he had met several times after he had joined the Order. They had been very talented wizards, and had worked perfectly as a team together. "Remind me to do something nice for her then."

"She'll get the ten thousand galleon reward for capturing him, I imagine." Remus replied. Sirius noticed that he was starting to look a bit peaky, and remembered that the full moon was only several nights away. He would have to start taking his potion tomorrow morning in preparation. They stayed up for a while, talking quietly into the night.

When Sirius awoke the next morning, he was already thinking about where he was going to go that day. He had put it off since his release, not wanting to face it, though he knew he would have to go eventually. Today seemed appropriate now that Peter was captured, and he didn't feel he could put it off any longer. The one point he wasn't sure on, was whether or not he ought to bring Arya with him. He glanced at his alarm clock and saw that it was later in the morning than he normally awoke. After he had showered and dressed, he double checked the Wolfsbane potion he had been brewing, before measuring out a good portion into a glass beaker.

Remus was sitting at the table, drinking his morning cup of tea and reading the morning Prophet when Sirius arrived in the kitchen. He sat down next to his friend and reached over to place the beaker of murky liquid down in front of him, taking the barely touched cup of tea for himself. "Can't have any sugar for the next couple of days, counteracts the potion. Bottoms up!" Remus made a sour face at him, and took a swig from the beaker.

Sirius sincerely wished he had a camera ready for the moment, because Remus's face as he choked down the potion looked like he taken a swig of dragon piss. Sirius roared with laughter as Remus sputtered, scrubbing the back of his hand over his mouth. "Bloody hell!" He swore loudly, and Sirius shushed him with a look down the hallway toward Arya's room. "This is the most vile thing I've ever tasted, and that includes that time in fourth year you and James put thestral dung in my kidney pie. How many times did you say I have to drink this?"

"Once in the morning and once in the evening until the night of the full moon. Sorry mate, but there's no way to make it taste better. The inventor tried everything, apparently, but anything that improved the taste rendered it ineffective."

"This better work wonders, or I might decide I prefer becoming a mindless beast once a month to drinking this for three days in a row."

"It'll work. And drinking nasty muck for a few days will be worth not having to tear yourself apart one night a month. You'll be a tame little wolfy instead." Sirius grinned. There was, of course, absolutely nothing little about Remus when he was a werewolf, but if the potion worked like it was supposed to, Remus's body would transform, and his mind would remain human. The transformation was hard on the body, but the most physically harmful part for Remus was that when a werewolf was deprived of people to hunt, it would harm itself instead. The long days of recovery needed after each full moon were very taxing on him. He was only 27 years old, but he was already beginning to look older than his years. The Wolfsbane potion would help prevent that from continuing.

When half an hour had passed, and there was still no sign of Arya waking up, Sirius went to her room and peeked through the slightly open door. She was turned away from him, facing her photo on the bedside table. Sirius could tell she was awake though, and he sighed as he walked over, and sat on the bed next to her. "How much of last night's conversation were you awake for?"

She didn't take her eyes off her photograph as she answered. "Till Tonks went home."

"I should have known when your fake snoring turned into real snoring that you'd been awake the whole time. Your real snoring is much louder, by the way."

She snorted slightly, but her face was serious again a moment later. "Is it my fault they're dead, Sirius? Was he after them because they opposed him, or was he after me for some reason?"

Sirius felt his heart sink, and he wished for a moment that she wasn't quite as intelligent as she was. It was a moment before he spoke again. "It was you he was after, Arya. But your fault? No. Don't ever even think that. You were barely a year old, and Voldemort's reasons for targeting you (don't ask, I'm not telling you that today), had nothing to do with anything you had done. You were barely able to toddle around, let alone incite crazed killers. Besides all of that, blame must always lie with the aggressor.

There is a theory that states that there is no such thing as innocence, only varying degrees of blame; and even if we accept that as true, 90 percent of the blame is Voldemort's, 9 percent is Pettigrew's, and the other percent is mine. Pettigrew was our friend, and when we learned that Voldemort was targeting you, James was going to make me secret keeper, but I felt I was too obvious a choice. I thought our best chance was using Peter instead, while I drew attention. He betrayed us, and told Voldemort where you and your parents were living. I have my own share of blame in all this, but I can't let it consume me, Arya. And I won't let it consume you, either. So get yourself up out of bed, clean up, try to tame the tangle on top of your head that you call hair, and come to the kitchen for some breakfast. You and I are going out today, and we're taking my bike, so dress warm."

He wasn't sure if it was his inspirational speech or the thought of riding a motorcycle, but Arya was up and eating breakfast within half an hour, looking a bit livelier. He didn't want to have to deal with her hair if she left it down on a motorcycle, so he worked with it while she ate, managing to get it into a fairly nice French braid. He'd dated a girl in fifth year that had made him learn how to do her hair, and he was suddenly thankful, no matter how much James had teased him at the time. He picked out a wind proof jacket from her wardrobe, and cast a series of cushioning charms on it, several of which would extend upward to cover her head, and downward to protect her legs. The motorcycle itself had charms on it to prevent it from tipping over, which he had renewed that morning, but he wanted to be extra safe.

Sirius had duplicated the helmet that Hagrid had returned with the bike, and he and Arya were standing in front of the garden gate, where he had parked the bike. The air was chilly, but the sun was starting to peek out from behind the clouds, and the earth smelled good from the previous day's storm. He shrank down the helmet until it fit her head snuggly without squeezing too hard, and informed her to hold on to him securely, and to lean with the bike instead of against it when they turned corners. It was the most common mistake of passengers, and made turning difficult. Arya nodded her head eagerly, and Sirius wondered what he was starting. He had to remember that though she looked like Lily, this was James's daughter as well; giving her a taste for motorcycles this early in life might lead to a bit of a thrill seeking personality, but oh well.

He mounted the bike and she clambered up behind him, holding on to the sides of his jacket tightly. He spoke the address he was heading toward to his directionally spelled pointer on his dashboard, and kicked the bike into gear. As he drove, the swivel dial on his dash would point him down the correct roads to take, since he had it set to land instead of air. When he flew the bike, it just pointed him in the direction his destination was at, and he flew a straight line. Today, however, he wasn't in a hurry, and a long ride in the spring air might be just what he and Arya needed. Arya gave a great whoop of joy as they sped off down the country lane, and he thought he heard her laughing through the rush of wind over his helmet. He grinned at her enthusiasm, and relaxed as they made their way through the countryside.

They arrived in Godrics Hollow about forty five minutes later, and Sirius pulled off to the side of a small road lined with houses. He turned the bike off, and waited for Arya to climb stiffly down before kicking out the stand and resting the bike to the side. He climbed off and removed his helmet, as Arya was doing the same. "Where are we?" She asked as her helmet slid off. She looked curiously up and down the street, eying the houses on either side of them.

"This is Godric's Hollow; it's where your parents lived, where you were born. This is the street their cottage is on." He walked down the street and she followed along, looking even more interestedly around. They approached an apparently empty lot, and as they drew closer, a quaint cottage appeared before them, behind a closed garden gate, and an over grown front yard. From the front it was easy to see where the roof had caved in over the nursery. Arya stood beside him, and he put his arm around her shoulder. She moved forward and he noticed a sign to the side of the gate that read that the cottage had been preserved as a monument to the Potters, and the violence which had torn the family apart. Over the years, names had been scratched onto the surface, and he noticed one that read "thank you Arya Potter." Witches and Wizards had written their messages of thanks to her over the years on the small sign.

When she turned back around, Sirius saw that she was crying, and he suddenly wasn't sure if bringing her here had been the right thing to do. Then she smiled at him through her tears, and he put his arm back around her, and continued to walk down the street, to the village square. They stopped in front of the monument that showed itself as they approached, before he led them to their final destination. The small graveyard behind the church was turning green again after the long winter, as new grass pushed its way up between the tombstones. He didn't know exactly where to look, so he and Arya wandered down the rows, looking at the names and inscriptions. Sirius noticed the graves of Dumbledore's mother and sister before they came to rest in front of a large white marble tombstone that read Lily and James Potter, followed by their dates of birth, and the date of death. Below that was inscribed "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death." It meant that death was destroyed, not by living forever, but by the act of dying. Sirius had a suspicion that Dumbledore had chosen it.

Arya moved forward and ran her hand across the names, and then kneeled in front of them with her head bowed. Sirius knelt as well, and placed his hand on James's name. I'll take care of her, my friend, he thought. I'll do the best I can. He felt his own tears run down his face, and bowed his head for a moment in grief. He felt Arya wrap her arms around his shoulders, and he hugged her back tightly. When she let go, he wiped the back of his hand over his eyes, and raised his wand, pointing it at the ground in front of the grave marker. A wreath of white lilies sprouted from the tip of his wand, entwining with one another to create a flowering circle that he leaned up against the tombstone. He studied it for a moment, and then directed his wand at it again, and half of the flowers turned the exact shade of red of Arya's and Lily's hair.

Arya's POV

Arya felt tears sting her eyes as she knelt in front of her parent's tombstone, and felt ashamed for a moment for crying twice in the last half hour; until she looked back at Sirius and saw that his head was bowed with grief as well, tears dripping off his chin. She supposed that if there was ever an appropriate place to cry, it was a graveyard. She hugged him tightly, and they cried together silently for a few moments. When she let go, she wiped away her tears, and watched as he did the same before creating a wreath of lilies to lie against the white marble stone. They knelt for a few more moments before rising and walking slowly through the village square, and down the little street to where the motorcycle was parked.

Sirius told her they had one more stop to make before they headed home, and they set out again, soon winding their way through the countryside again. Soon after they had ridden through a small village named Ottery St. Catchpole, they turned onto a dirt lane and bumped their way up to the most interesting looking house Arya had ever seen. It wasn't very wide, but it was very tall, and it leaned precariously to the side. There were additions sticking out of the sides in odd places, and chickens scattered across the yard that went running as the bike roared its way up the path. There was a wooden sign out front that read 'Welcome to the Burrow', Sirius stopped the bike next to it and she climbed carefully down. They both took off their helmets and stretched the stiffness from their limbs before Sirius led the way to the front of the house and rang the bell.

A plump woman with red hair and a slightly harassed expression opened the door a few moments later, wearing an apron and carrying a wooden spoon. A girl with the same red hair and brown eyes of her mother was peering at them from behind her mother's skirts. Arya thought she looked a bit younger than herself, but not by much. "How can I help- Oh! Mr. Black, what can I do for you?"

"Hello, its Molly Weasley, isn't it?" He reached out, and they shook hands, Molly looking a bit flustered by the unexpected visit.

"Yes, it's very nice to meet you. The house is a bit of a disaster at the moment, all the kids are home from school you see, but please come in anyway." She stood back to let them in, and seemed to notice Arya for the first time. "Oh, you must be Arya! Well with that hair, you'll fit right in here."

She smiled kindly down at her, and Arya resisted the urge to hide behind Sirius. She really was going to have to get better at meeting new people, but after years of the Dursleys encouraging her to be as quiet and unseen as possible, it was hard to speak up in front of people she didn't know. She smiled back instead, and made herself reach out as Sirius had, and Molly shook her hand with a bit of a bemused expression. The girl Arya assumed was one of Molly's children had gasped audibly when her mother had said her name, and when Arya looked at her, she blushed to the very roots of her red hair, tripped over a stray pair of shoes on the floor, and ran out of the room. Apparently Arya wasn't the worst one at handling new people in the house.

"Oh dear." Molly said, looking after her. "That's my daughter Ginny, she's not usually the slightest bit shy, but her favorite story when she was very little was The Girl Who Lived. Bit startling to run into your favorite character, I imagine." Sirius barked a laugh, and Arya blushed as Molly waved for them to follow her through to the kitchen, where she had been in the middle of fixing lunch. It was easy for Arya to forget that she was famous when she was around Sirius and Remus.

"I'm sorry for intruding with no warning, Mrs. Weasley, we were on our way back from visiting Godric's Hollow and I wanted to stop by and say thank you personally. After all these years, I wasn't expecting him to be found right here in Britain." Sirius sat down at the kitchen table, and Molly directed her wand at the various pots on the stove, and a pile of sandwiches on the counter that were making themselves under her direction.

"It's no bother at all, Mr. Black, and please, call me Molly. Will you two stay for lunch? I've made more than enough food, and my son Ron will be in Arya's year at Hogwarts in a few years' time." Arya's stomach rumbled and she was glad when Sirius accepted the invitation to stay and eat. She hadn't met very many kids her own age that Dudley's presence hadn't scared away, and it would be good know someone in her year at school.

"Excellent, you both look like you could use some feeding up, if you don't mind my saying so." The smells wafting over from the pots on the stove were enticing, and Arya for one didn't mind that this woman wanted to feed her at all. Anyone who wanted to give her food was alright in her book. "I don't think I can convey to you how relieved I am to have this whole mess sorted out; if you hadn't gotten your trial, who's to say how long that man would have been in my house? He was sleeping in the same room as my son, for goodness sakes. It makes my blood run cold to think of it."

"I can hardly imagine, Molly. It makes me sick to think of him drawing breath in the same world as Arya, let alone in the same room." He shuddered slightly. "Knowing he's been captured takes a huge weight off my chest, I'll never be able to thank you enough."

Molly blushed slightly, and waved away any need of thanks, though she did look a little pleased. She walked over to the entrance into the front hallway, and called in an impressively loud voice that lunch was done. There was what sounded like a stampede of feet coming down the stairs, and soon there was a sea of red headed children in the room. Arya could see what Molly had meant about her fitting in with her hair; it wasn't just Molly and Ginny with red hair, there were seven children, and all of them were redheads. To be fair, the older two were hardly kids anymore. The boy with the pony tail looked to be about Tonks's age, and the stocky one seemed only a few years behind.

The boy with the pony tail plopped down next to her, and had already taken a bite of sandwich before he seemed to see her. "You're not Ginny." Were the first words out of his mouth, and she laughed at his startled expression. He noticed Sirius next, and seemed to put together who they must be and why they were there. He introduced himself as Bill, and said that he was a friend of Tonks, who had written him over break about meeting to two of them.

Ginny ended up in the seat across from her, and when Arya smiled at her, she blushed to the roots of her hair again, and promptly put her elbow in the butter dish. Arya winced in sympathy, she hated feeling shy herself, and this girl was obviously suffering way worse than Arya usually did. She remembered how Tonks had put her at ease the first time they had met, and decided that maybe a direct and persistent approach might work the best. It was odd to be the one trying to put someone at ease, instead of being on the receiving end of it.

"So, how old are you Ginny?" Arya asked. Ginny blushed harder than ever and muttered that she'd be seven in August. "So you'll just be a year below me at Hogwarts, though I suppose you'll have enough older brothers to show you around."

She thought that Ginny might choke on her bite of sandwich, but she managed to swallow and reply, "Yeah, four of them will still be there when I start" before ducking her head again. Arya found that the more Ginny tried to avoid talking to her, the more determined she was to get through her shyness.

Molly had said she wasn't normally shy at all. Sometimes the best way to get through to someone was to make them laugh, but now that she wanted to say something funny, she had no idea what to say. The boy sitting next to Ginny saved her from floundering for something funny to say. He looked like he was the closest to her in age, and he worked up the nerve to ask her if it was true that she had lived with muggles until just recently. She tried to direct her answer to both him and Ginny and said, "With my aunt and uncle, until just a couple days ago." It felt weird to say it; it felt like it had been months rather than days since she had last been in her cupboard. "They never told me about anything, either. I had no idea the wizarding world existed until Sirius showed up and told me."

"Wow." Ginny and Ron said at the same time. "Weren't you sad to leave them though?" Ron asked.

Arya shook her head vehemently. "They knew I was a witch even though they didn't tell me, and they don't like magic at all. I lived in the cupboard under the stairs, even though there was a spare bedroom, and they never let me eat very much. I always hoped someone would show up to take me away, so I was really happy to go with Sirius, even though we'd just met. I like him and Remus a lot better. I have my own room, and I eat at the table every meal now and everything." She finished happily.

Ginny was red in the face again, but this time it wasn't from shyness or embarrassment. "The cupboard under the stairs?! Didn't let you eat? What- how could they, those monsters! People aren't allowed to do that to their kids! They should go to jail!"

Arya was a little surprised by the amount of rage emanating from the girl across from her. She was quite a bit shorter than her, and absolutely dwarfed by all of her brothers, but she looked ready to march over to Number Four Privet Drive and give the Dursleys a piece of her mind. Arya could finally see what Molly meant about her not being shy.

"She's right." Put in Ron, "That doesn't sound legal. There's an office in the law enforcement department that deals with that I think. Child safety or something. But I suppose if they're muggles they might not have gotten wind about it." Arya was a bit surprised to hear that, and thought that perhaps there could have been muggle systems to deal with that kind of stuff as well, but she had never even tried to contact them. It's not like her uncle really beat her up or anything. And Dudley hit her, but he wasn't her guardian, so would they have done anything about it? She just shrugged, and brought around the topic of under-age magic, curious to hear what the other two had done on accident. They passed the rest of the meal happily enough, trading stories about the bursts of magic that had happened to them over the last few years. Ginny and Ron laughed at her story of turning her muggle teachers wig blue, and about lighting her sock on fire. Apparently Ginny had produced fire at one point also, when she was still a toddler, which had prompted her parents to fire proof her bedroom from floor to ceiling.

By the time the meal ended, Sirius had noticed how well she was getting on with the two youngest Weasleys, and asked Molly if she wouldn't mind setting up play dates for Arya to visit her two new friends. Molly beamed at him, and said that they were welcome any time, and to just send her an owl ahead of time. Sirius and Molly shook hands, and Arya gave Ron and Ginny a quick hug each, before following Sirius out the door. She had just made her first two friends, and she liked both of them enormously.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note**. Ah, the beginning of Remus and Tonks fluff. Hope you enjoy the chapter, and thank you to everyone who reviewed!

Let me know what you think in a review, you're opinions matter and help influence things in future chapters.

Chapter 9.

Full Moon Night

**Arya's POV**

When Arya awoke in the morning a few days since her visit to Godric's Hollow, she opened her eyes to look at the picture on her nightstand, and instead of just seeing the photo of her parents; she saw the new photos that had been placed there as well. Remus had thought it was a good idea to add current pictures to her collection of old ones, saying that well it was good to remember the past, that it was also good to live in the present. A picture of her and Sirius on the motorcycle, pulling into the front drive with matching helmets was framed; Remus had taken it as they arrived home from the Weasley's house. One Sirius had taken of her and Remus reading on the couch was there as well, both of them in their pajamas still. She smiled a bit, and thought that Remus was probably right; dwelling too much on the past wasn't healthy. It was hard not to think about what might have been, but when she looked back at life with the Dursleys, she remembered to appreciate where she was now as well.

She had showered, and was in the process of brushing her teeth when she noticed the change in her appearance in the mirror. She had freckles across her face! Well that was new. There weren't just a few, either. She checked her arms, and sure enough, where her shirt sleeves ended, her skin had a dusting of freckles all the way down to her hands. She stuck her leg up onto the counter and checked there, too. Where her shorts had ended, the freckles began. She'd never gotten enough sunlight at the Dursleys for them to appear, apparently. Maybe she had gotten some on the back of her neck while slaving over the flower beds, but how would she have known? Yesterday had been sunny and in the 70's, and she had spent a good bit of it in the sun, laying out with her book or playing with Padfoot. That combined with the last week of spending a good portion of her days outdoors had changed her complexion completely, form smooth ivory to heavily freckled. She considered this change for a moment, and then shrugged it off unconcernedly. In a way they were a sign of her new found home and freedom, and she was going to treat it like a good thing; they meant she was spending her days outside in the sun, and there was nothing to hate about that.

At the kitchen table, Sirius was sipping a cup of tea, and Remus was gulping a murky brown liquid from a glass beaker with a revolted expression on his face. She knew it was his Wolfsbane potion, and remembered that she would be going to Andromeda's house later in the day, and be spending the night away from the cottage for the first time since she had moved in. Tonks had a few days left of break, so she would be there as well, and Arya thought it would be kind of like having a sleep over at a friend's house, which she had never done before. There was a pan of eggs and sausages steaming on the stove, and she helped herself to a plate full before sitting down at the table.

Sirius said good morning cheerfully, but Remus just grunted his greeting disgruntledly through a mouthful of his potion. Arya didn't press him; Sirius had said the night before that he'd be a bit off until the next day, which he would probably sleep through. Even Remus on the morning of his transformation wasn't as grumpy as her uncle Vernon on a good day though, so Arya didn't let it bother her.

Remus glared at Sirius balefully as he bit into his chocolate biscuit he was eating with his tea, and Arya remembered that on top of drinking a nasty potion twice a day, the poor bloke wasn't allowed to have sugar until tomorrow either. She kicked Sirius under the table and eyed Remus meaningfully when he looked up at her. He glanced at him and hurriedly put the tin of biscuits away out of sight. Remus finished his vile concoction and walked over to the couch, flopping down dispiritedly and putting a pillow over his head. Sirius gestured out the door to the back garden when she was done eating, and she nodded, following him out into the yard.

"Is there anything we can do to help him feel better?" She asked once they were outside and Sirius had closed the door softly behind him.

"I'm afraid not. What he need now is to be left alone for a while to rest. And maybe an extra rare steak for dinner." He added with a smile. "He'll be okay, Arya. I promise." She nodded doubtfully, glance back at the cabin. The world was a strange place when good people had to suffer so much no good reason.

He led her to the small shed at the back of the garden, where she knew Remus kept his gardening tools. Sirius didn't take out a spade or a shovel though, he pulled out two broomsticks, and Arya felt a surge of excitement. Sirius and Remus had explained quidditch to her a few days previously, and she had been having dreams about zooming through the air on a broom ever since. One of the brooms was sleek and shiny, and the other looked old and rather dusty.

"Today," Sirius stated with a grin, "Is the day I teach you how to fly." He tossed her the old dusty looking broom, keeping the new one for himself. "Since this is your first time flying, you get the old slow Cleansweep, so that I can catch you if you go rocketing off in the wrong direction. Once you get the hang of it, we'll visit Quality Quidditch Supplies and get you one that's a bit newer, I bought mine there the other week."

She nodded in understanding, it made a lot of sense to start out slow, but she couldn't help but be a bit envious, looking at the shiny new handle. The sooner she got the hang of it, the sooner she could get a faster broom, too. She paid close attention as he showed her how to mount the broom and push off from the ground; there was a trick to it so that you didn't slide off the back, and a way of tucking your feet up under the tail of the broom to avoid putting your weight on the uncomfortable broom handle. He hovered in front of her, demonstrating how to turn, and brake, and go up or down. It all had to do with shifting your weight, and braking was achieved by shifting your body backward, and accelerating had to do with leaning in close to the handle. She was pretty sure she got the gist of it, and was very eager to try it herself.

Sirius made her repeat his instructions back to him before letting her try it, and he had his wand within easy reach, just in case she couldn't halt her upward acceleration. She gripped her broom the way he had showed her, and took a deep breath before kicking off hard from the ground.

All the rules she had just repeated back to Sirius flew right out of her head; this wasn't hard at all, this was easy. She leaned in close to her broom handle and shot into the sky, leveling off by sitting up straighter and pushing the handle down a bit. She turned in a loose circle until she was facing Sirius again, and pushed the handle downward, leaning in close again in a quick dive. She pulled up again just over his head, and shot off into the sky again with a yell of pure exhilaration. This was _wonderful_.

She pulled an abrupt about-face, and stopped in the air, high above the cottage. It was beautiful up here; the wind was steady and brisk, and smelled clean and fresh. It was a cloudy spring day, but from here she could see off into the distance, all the places the sun poked through the cloud cover, sending streaks of golden morning light down to the ground. She could see the small winding road that she and Sirius had taken the motorcycle down on their way to Godric's Hollow, and she could even make out the small muggle village in the distance. Far below, Sirius kicked off from the ground, and within seconds he had pulled his broom up alongside hers.

"You're a natural!" He said with joy, grinning at her. "I never would have guessed flying was a hereditary talent! Even James didn't start off that smooth!"

"This is awesome!" She felt herself grinning uncontrollably, and couldn't make herself stop. This had to be the best form of magic in the world. It felt like the easiest thing; she didn't have to think about it, she just moved and the broom responded to her. She took off above the field behind Remus's garden, and Sirius tailed her closely. They flew higher, gaining altitude as they looped in a wide circle above the field, and then she swooped down in an even longer dive, landing in a long skid in the field. Sirius touched down close by, and Arya flopped down in the grass, lying on her back, holding the broom out to her side, and looking up at the sky that she could now reach.

Sirius appeared upside down as he stood near her head looking down at her. "Done already?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope. Just soaking in how awesome this is." She sprang to her feet, and kicked off into the air again, grinning madly.

It was several hours before Arya and Sirius returned to the cottage, windswept and extremely hungry. Sirius sent Arya to go wash up and change out of her sweaty clothes, she took her second shower of the day and emerged half an hour later to see that Sirius had lunch well underway, and as promised, he was making steak. The smell of cooking meat brought Remus out from under his blanket on the couch, and Sirius served him up a massive, bloody steak on a plate. Arya's plate had a smaller steak that had actually been cooked instead of waved over the stove a few times, and a side of veggies and potatoes. Remus grunted his thanks and dug in ravenously; he was usually a very polite eater, who preferred tea and biscuits over meat, but not today. Today his manners put even Sirius's to shame.

After lunch, Sirius found her a small trunk, and she packed an overnight bag that included pajamas, an outfit for tomorrow, toothbrush, hair brush, and one of her books. She said goodbye to Mr. Kitty, and made sure to fill his food and water dish before going to stand in front of the floo with Sirius. She waved goodbye to Remus and took a pinch of the powder Sirius was offering, and a moment later she was falling out of the grate at Andromeda's house. Tonks was there to stop her from ending up on the carpet, and Sirius appeared a moment later, carrying her small bag.

"Wotcher, you two!" Said Tonks, giving Arya a one armed hug around the shoulders.

"Hello Dora!" Sirius moved forward and gave her a hug, setting her suitcase down by the couch. "Andromeda and your father out?"

"Yeah, visiting friends for the evening, I was happy to have a good excuse not to go. They always make dinner for everyone, but neither of them can cook, I swear. It's awful to sit there and try to choke it down politely without making faces."

Sirius laughed, and turned to Arya. "I'll be back tomorrow morning around nine; he should be asleep for the day by then." He knelt down to give her a hug, said thank you and goodbye to Tonks, and disappeared in a puff of green flames.

"Let's get your suitcase up to the guest room, so you can see where you'll be sleeping. I'll show you where it is, come on." And she scooped up her suitcase and tromped off up the stairs, with Arya following behind. The house was a lot bigger than Remus's cottage, with several bathrooms in it, and the upstairs had three bedrooms and a study. Tonks showed her into the guest room, which was nicely decorated in inoffensive neutral colors, with a luxurious looking bed heaped with pillows. "The best part of this room is the bed! I used to come in here when my parents weren't paying attention and jump all over it, drove mum mad. But it's just so bouncy, I could never resist!" She set down the suitcase and stared at the bed for a moment with a considering look on her face, before jumping up and landing in the middle of the piled pillows with a bounce.

Arya kicked off her shoes and followed suit, leaping up next to Tonks on the pillow pile. It was indeed a very squishy bed. Arya couldn't imagine what the Dursleys would have done if she had ever been caught jumping on one of their beds. She had snuck up to the spare room to read on the bed when they left her home alone though. Tonks laughed, falling back sideways across the bed. "I haven't done that in years! Just as squishy as I remember." She flipped onto her side facing Arya, and asked, "How is Remus doing today? I've read that the day leading up to a full moon night can be rather rough."

"He's mostly been sleeping all day, and hasn't talked much at all. He ate a seriously raw looking steak for lunch today; it was bigger than his face and gone in about five minutes. And he's been taking his Wolfsbane potion the last few days, which apparently tastes awful, and he hasn't been able to eat anything with sugar in it either. So extra grumpy, extra tired, no chocolate biscuits, and a very nasty potion twice a day. Other than that he seems okay." Arya was sitting up as she talked, hugging one of the many pillows to her chest. "Sirius says that he'll be okay, and that what he needs most is to be left alone and be fed lots of rare steaks. Apparently they figured that out over the years as the best method of dealing with him this time of month."

Tonks snorted with amusement and said, "Fair enough. Once a month I need to be left alone, get lots of sleep, and be fed copious amounts of chocolate, so it does kind of sound familiar." Arya gave her a very confused look; she had no idea what she was talking about. Tonks's amused expression faded away as she regarded her confused face. "Huh. You live with a bunch of blokes… I don't suppose you and your aunt were very close? No of course not, don't answer that- how old are you turning this summer?"

"I'll be eight at the end of July."

Tonks considered her for a moment, and then shrugged. "Alright, it's early, but I can't see poor old Sirius giving you a talk, poor bloke." She scooted into an upright position and grabbed her own pillow to hug, facing Arya on the bed. "Okay, let's see… So you've no doubt figured out that woman are the lucky ones who have to squeeze out the kids, right?" Arya tried not to look at her like she thought she was bizarre, and nodded her head. "Right, so girls your age are way too young for that, not just because you're a child, but because you're physically unable. Sometime, probably between the age of nine and twelve, your body is going to be going through a whole mess of changes, and one of those is the physical capability to have children. You'll of course still be too young for any of that, but your body will be capable…"

And from there she launched into an explanation that Arya rather thought her aunt should have given her already. The thought of having to deal with cramps and mood swings and blood so that her body could have a baby at the age of ten sounded ridiculous. It also occurred to her that if Tonks hadn't thought to explain it to her, and Sirius and Remus didn't know enough about it to be helpful, she could have been left in a very frightening situation in a few years' time.

"I know this sounds like a lot, but you'll get used to it. I just didn't want you to wake up some morning a couple years from now, feeling like hell and too embarrassed to ask for help. One of my dorm mates had a less than stellar mother, who decided that she could learn the hard way, and what should have been a normal process was a frightening, humiliating mess. If it happens at Hogwarts, which is likely since you'll be there so often after you turn eleven, go to the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey will get you all set up. And if the cramps are bad she's got an amazing potion for that, I swear it's the only reason I made it through third year."

"How long does this go on for, exactly?" Arya asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"Depends. Usually until you're fifty-ish."

"Ah! That is so not fair! What do guys have to go through?"

"Well, their voice cracks during puberty…" Arya threw a pillow at her, and she ducked, laughing. "I know, I know, doesn't seem fair at all. Come on, enough serious talk, let's head downstairs. And by the way, if either Sirius or Remus actually remembers to talk to you about this, do me a huge favor and don't stop them prematurely. Let them stumble through it, it'll be hilarious." She grinned evilly at her, and Arya grinned back.

They made their way back downstairs, and Tonks asked, "So Remus can't have his chocolate until tomorrow, right?"

"Right. Or the sugar in it stops the potion from working."

"Alright, so how about you and I make him up a box of chocolate treats? It's give us something to do, since I doubt you want to watch me study. We can put in a movie afterward; my dad's parents were muggles, so we have a lot of muggle things around the house. He always said wizard were nutters for not creating their own version of the TV." Arya had never been allowed to watch what she would have liked on the television at the Dursleys, and what they watched she had usually hated. It seemed likely, however, that Tonks would have better taste in movies than Dudley and Vernon.

She and Tonks had fun baking chocolate biscuits, which Tonks didn't even take out her wand for. She said that her father had taught her to cook the muggle way, and that she wasn't very good at household type spells anyway. Arya had lots of cooking experience because the Dursleys had made her cook for them often, but she had never had fun with it before. Cooking with Tonks was a lot different than cooking with her aunts critical eyes on her. Instead of an exercise in perfection, it was semi organized chaos, and they snacked liberally throughout the process, eating chocolate pieces and tasting the batter often. By the time their biscuits were in the oven, they were both covered in melted chocolate and flour, as was the rest of the kitchen. Tonks used her wand to clean up, and instead of them destroying everything again to cook dinner, she used the telephone in the living room to order Chinese food.

After the biscuits had cooled, and several of them had been eaten, Tonks put them on a plate, and conjured a small, bright pink box to set them in. She and Arya were in the process of drawing a handmade get well soon card when their dinner arrived. They paused to eat from the boxes of rice and stir-fry, and Tonks tried to teach Arya how to eat with chopsticks, which was hilarious if not very effective. They finished eating, put the final touches on their card, and Tonks signed it "From Arya and Dora with love, hope you feel better soon."

Tonks let Arya pick out a movie, and they piled onto the couch after changing into pajamas, for a night of what Tonks called 'vegging out'. The movies were fun, but every once and a while, Arya glanced out the living room windows at the full moon shining brightly, and thought of Remus and Sirius, running outside as a wolf and large black dog.

She looked over a Tonks once, to ask about something in the movie, and her question died on her lips as she saw that she was gazing at the moon as well, looking very solemn. For all that she seemed to take everything in stride; she must worry about him as well. Arya turned back to the movie without asking, leaving her to her silent contemplation of the moon.

**Sirius's POV**

Sirius served steak for dinner, to follow up Remus's steak at lunch. He and James had made the discovery years ago that Remus as a werewolf was much more manageable when he transformed already stuffed with nice rare meat, than if he went into a full moon night hungry. Granted, the potion was supposed to let him keep his mind, so perhaps it didn't matter, but Sirius wanted to be very sure. When it had been him and James together, they were such large animals that it had been easier to handle Remus together. Alone, it was a bit more perilous. The bites wouldn't infect them in animal form, but a werewolf bite, infected or not, was not a thing to be trifled with.

Sirius walked the perimeter of Remus's property, which was actually fairly large. Remus had gotten by financially in part due to the fields around his cottage that his parents had left him. He rented them out to muggle crop farmers, but the planting this year was already done, and there were no muggles on the land at the moment. Sirius cast muggle repelling charms around the edge of the property, and spells to contain how far Remus would be able to go. He wasn't about to risk him running off to the muggle village if his potion didn't work the way it was supposed to. It was difficult magic, but after a near run in near Hogsmeade in sixth year, he and James had learned, setting up perimeters from the whopping willow through the forbidden forest.

When he got back to the cabin, Remus was standing outside in the back garden locking up the cottage. If someone was dumb enough to floo through on the night of the full moon, they wouldn't be able to go outside. "Drink your potion?" Sirius asked, striding up to his friend.

"Yes. Moon should rise in about twenty minutes. Let's get away from the garden, I just planted and I don't fancy trampling everything." His voice was extra scratchy, but otherwise normal, and they walked together through the freshly plowed fields, the rows of trees running between them casting long shadows in the setting sun. It was always easy to know when the moon was rising on full moon nights, as it came up at the same time the sun went down, unlike on other nights of the month.

Sirius transformed first, and Remus striped off his robes and bundled them around his wand, setting the pile at the base of a tree along the side of the field. Unlike when Sirius transformed, Remus's clothes and wand didn't stay with him. Sirius would lead them back here in the morning, and when he turned human again, they'd be near his things. The sun disappeared over the horizon, and the moon peaked above the opposite skyline. Sirius watched as his friend buckled over, hunching his shoulders and grabbing at the ground as he fell to his knees, his form beginning to ripple and change. It took only moments, and there was the towering form of a werewolf where Remus had been. Sirius waited cautiously as the werewolf dropped down onto all fours, and when it turned to look at him, he felt a weight lift from his heart. His eyes were not that of the wild beast that took him over once a month, but that of his friend.

Sirius barked happily, and Remus raised his head and howled at the moon, and it sounded victorious this time, because he had finally won. If Remus had been so inclined, they could have simply waited for the sun to rise, but though he retained his human mind, werewolves were still nocturnal creatures, and they had miles of fields to run in. Sirius took off, and Remus ran after him into the night.

When the sky began to brighten in the east, Sirius led the way to where they had started, and flopped down under the tree in exhaustion, closing his eyes for a brief nap. When the first rays of the sun hit his eyes, he made sure Remus was all the way back to normal before changing back into a man. He helped him back into his robes, and hauled his arm around his shoulders; half carrying him back to the cottage. He used his wand to undue Remus's locking spells, and got him to his bed to sleep. He set a tall glass of water next to his bed, and a mild restorative potion he had prepared the night before. It would help with the aches and pains that plagued him after a full moon. He was free of any wounds, however. The potion had worked amazingly well, and the werewolf's natural urge to rip and tear at itself in the absence of humans had absent last night.

With Remus taken care of, he stumbled into his own room, and set an alarm for eight thirty before collapsing onto his pillows, falling asleep within moments. It felt like minutes before it went off, instead of several hours. He groaned, and got dressed to go pick up Arya from Andromeda's house. He poked his head in Remus's door, to see that both the potion and the water had been drunk. He refilled the water glass and closed the door behind him.

When he arrived at Andromeda's, he found them all seated at the kitchen table eating breakfast, and was brought up short by the sight of Arya. Tonks had done her hair up in about two dozen multi colored barrettes sticking up all over her head, and had apparently shrunk down one of her old punk jackets to fit her. There were actual metal spikes on the shoulders. He was stunned for a moment by the sight, his tired brain not processing it very quickly. Then he busted out laughing; it was adorable on a seven year old, though Andromeda looked a little askance.

Ted pulled out another chair, and Sirius was glad to join the meal; after running around all night, he was starving. He assured everyone that Remus was fine, that the potion had worked wonderfully, and that he'd be back on his feet in record time. Tonks and Arya both looked relieved, and he knew that since neither of them had known of his condition previously, they hadn't really had time to see firsthand how it worked. After a few months they would get used to the idea a bit more, and hopefully not worry too much. There was a bright pink box with a card on top for Remus for him to carry back through the floo when he and Arya said their goodbyes and thanks after the meal. Tonks waved them off cheerfully, and gave Arya a hug before they stepped into the grate, and spun away back to the cottage.

Sirius immediately grabbed the camera and got a picture of her in her jacket and hair due, before scrambling eggs and cooking bacon, and heaping the whole thing onto a plate for Remus. He led the way into his room carrying the plate, with Arya following behind with the bright pink box. They set both on the bedside table, and Sirius cast a charm to keep the plate of food warm, instead of waking him to eat. They left the room quietly, leaving him to sleep in peace.

**Remus's POV **

When Remus awoke later in the morning, he found himself tired and a sore, but otherwise unharmed. He remembered waking earlier in the morning in bed, and drinking what tasted like a restorative draft and a plain glass of water that Sirius must have left out for him. He had been just awake enough to feel a huge sense of relief; this was the best condition he'd woken up in after a full moon since he had been bitten as a small child. Even when he had been able to run with his friends at Hogwarts there had been injuries from when Sirius or James had been forced to nip or ram at him to keep him in check. Last night had been different, there had been clarity of thought and no urge to kill or maim.

He glance to the side as saw the plate full of eggs and bacon still steaming, and sat up eagerly, pulling it toward him and eating hungrily. There was also a bright pink box sitting there, and he pulled it over curiously after he had finished eating. There was a card on top, with a picture in color pencil of what looked like a wolf and black dog running together under a full moon. It was a get well soon card, signed in loopy, flamboyant hand writing 'from Arya and Dora, with love.' Inside the box was a large plate heaped with homemade chocolate biscuits. They were delicious.

He set the box back on the table with the card propped open facing him, and laid back down on his side, looking at the childish drawing that Arya must have done, and the loopy handwriting that could only be Dora's. After six years of being solitary, he now had his oldest friend and a child who had turned out more amazing than he could have ever expected, to share his life with. As he fell back asleep, he thought that it wasn't just Sirius and Arya, either. The pink box and loopy writing brought to mind Dora's smiling, heart shaped face surrounded by bubble gum pink curls.


	10. Chapter 10

**Authors Note. **This one took awhile to write, for some reason! Hope you enjoy, and leave a review if you have the time, it's appreciated a whole bunch (:

Chapter 10

The Trial

The morning of Peter Pettigrew's trial was a tense one in the cottage where Remus, Sirius, and Arya lived. Remus and Sirius were both giving testimony, and their emotions were running high; they were eager for it to be over with, and to see their old friend get his due. Unlike when the perpetrator of a crime was a stranger or a long time enemy, when it was an old friend there was a confused jumble of emotion instead of pure hate. Of hate they certainly had plenty; Sirius felt his hatred like a ball of fire under his breast bone, threatening to burn away everything else in his heart. But there was also guilt, and grief, and a lack of understanding; in other words, there was a deep seated feeling of betrayal. How could someone who had been their friend have done something so awful?

That was the question that kept Sirius up at night, remembering the way that James had always taken special care to include Peter in their group, how he had extended friendship and protection to him. Was that why he had done it? Because he felt that he was included out of goodness of heart rather than true liking? Had it turned him to hatred, because he hated pity? Sirius had never felt like that had mattered to Peter, but maybe he had been wrong. And if that had led to hatred of James, who he had always hero worshiped, what about Lily? Lily, who had been nothing but kind and genuine to not just Peter, but to everyone she met. Lily's kindness had extended even to Snape in the first few years of school; until he had shown how deep his pure-blood prejudice ran, calling her a mudblood in front of half of the school. Even after that, Snape had tried and tried to win her back; and if a professed supporter of Voldemort had cared that much for Lily, how could Peter justify her death to himself? If Peter was that deprived of human feeling, how had they missed it for all those years?

Sirius stewed over those questions over breakfast, and it looked as if Remus was doing the same. It had been two weeks since the full moon, and he had recovered remarkably fast, on his feet again after just a day in bed. If Sirius and Remus were busy stewing, Arya was busy pouting. She had reasoned, argued, and begged to come along, but Sirius had been firm, and Remus had backed him up; she was not going to the trial. She hadn't thrown a fit, as Sirius had seen some children do, with crying and screaming and tears, she just pouted sullenly. There had been a bit of confusion about where she would spend the day, since Tonks was back at Hogwarts to finish her last term of classes, Andromeda and Ted were both going to the trial, and Mrs. Weasley was also giving testimony. Remus had eventually came up with the idea of asking Mrs. Weasley where her youngest four children were going to be, and she had invited Arya to come over and spend the day with Ron, Ginny, Fred and George, who were staying home with their father Arthur, who had taken the day off work so that his wife could go in.

Arya was still miffed about missing it, but on the other hand, she seemed to enjoy the prospects of seeing her two friends again. Sirius had been a bit relieved to see that she was capable of being out of sorts; he was of the firm opinion that any child that well behaved had to be seriously repressed. If she was open with showing them that she was peeved with them, she must be feeling more secure. He had known her parents, after all, and though Lily had been less of a rule breaker than James, she'd still had a temper.

Three weeks away from the Dursleys had changed her for the better, both mentally and physically. Sirius was amazed by how resilient children were; she's suffered abuse and neglect since she was barely a year old, and three weeks away from it had been enough to turn her around entirely. She barely resembled the scared girl he'd found in the cupboard under the stairs that morning, frighteningly thin and reluctant to ask questions. She had put on weight in the last week or two, after a visit to St. Mungos for a check-up and receiving several potions to counteract the fact that she'd been under fed for so long. She was still thin, but it was the normal thinness of a young growing child instead of the waifish look of a starveling. She had developed a thick layer of freckles over every inch of skin that was regularly exposed to sunlight, and her bright red, messy long hair looked shiny and healthier. She asked questions every day, read books at an alarmingly fast rate, and got exercise by practicing flying. Sirius had gotten her a better broom, and they flew together often.

Remus had been concerned about not continuing her muggle education, and had gone out and bought text books in a variety of muggle subjects for her age level. They dedicated a few hours every day to working with her on them, which mostly consisted of her reading the material, and then answering all the questions Remus tested her on. After the first week of this, Remus suggested getting her transcripts from her old school, and Sirius had paid them a visit the following week. After Remus had looked them over, he had told Sirius that the only reason she hadn't been placed in an accelerated program is because the Dursleys hadn't consented to it. Sirius knew they had probably not wanted her to outshine their son. She was self-motivated enough that if Remus bought the correct work books, she would do them. He introduced a deal with her that in between every book she read of her own choosing, she had to read a muggle book of his choosing as well. It was a good way for her to learn muggle history and sciences, and Remus truly enjoyed teaching.

There was to be no studying today, even though it was a Wednesday, because the trial was going to take up the majority of the day. They finished breakfast, and Arya went to her room to change into her clothes for the day, and grab anything that she wanted to take with her to the Burrow. She stalked out from the hallway and stood in front of the fire, trying not to look too petulant. Sirius hid a grin under one hand, and used his hair untangling charm on her head, before making it into a plait down her back. It's hard to glower at someone who's doing your hair for you, and by the time he finished she didn't look quite as sullen. He gave her a big bear hug, and she asked "Will you at least tell me what happens?"

"Of course! Unless, of course, it's totally inappropriate, in which case you'll read it in the newspapers. Off we go!" And he took a pinch of floo powder and disappeared in a flash of green fire.

Arya shook her head in exasperation, took a pinch of floo powder, said "The Burrow!" and disappeared through the grate after him. Mrs. Weasley had already left for the Ministry when they arrived, and her husband was waiting for them with Ron and Ginny. The twins were nowhere to be seen, but loud banging and crashes from up above hinted at where they had gone. Ron and Ginny were hanging back shyly behind their father; Arthur Weasley was a tall man with glasses, thinning red hair, and a ready smile. He strode forward eagerly and rang Sirius's hand, "Mr. Black, I'm Arthur Weasley; it's very nice to meet you. And Arya," He reached out and shook her hand as well. "Ginny and Ron are both quite taken with you." He beamed at her, and she smiled back, feeling almost as shy as Ginny looked, hiding behind her father, but at least not running out of the room. Arya wondered how much progress from last time had been erased in two weeks absence.

"Call me Sirius, please. I feel very much in debt to your wife and family for catching the rat, and I think our children are going to be fast friends; might as well be on a first name basis."

"There's no debt, none at all. It's been quite an upsetting incident, to think of someone like that in your home for all that time, invading your space and family; Molly could never have done anything differently. If anything, we're indebted to you for bring the whole situation to light."

As Sirius responded, Arya moved away from the two men, and walked over to where Ron and Ginny had been hanging back. "Hey! How are you guys?" Ginny blushed to the roots of her hair again, but resolutely stood her ground. It was Ron who answered.

"Been alright. Mums been a bit worked up since she found out that bloke was actually Percy's rat. Bit glad she's out to take care of the rest of it today, she's hardly been letting us out of her sight."

Ginny came to their mums defense, "Well she did just find out a household pet was a criminal, Ron. That's got to make anyone a bit jumpy for a while." She turned to Arya. "Percy used to let him sleep on his pillow at night, I actually feel bad for him. He's really shaken up about it all. Mum bought him a little owl to make up for it, but it's still creepy to think about."

Arya shuddered in agreement, how would she have felt to discover that Mr. Kitty was actually a killer in disguise? "Can you even imagine staying as a rat for six years? How could anyone do that and not go insane?"

"Maybe he did." Said Ron. "It'll all be in the papers tomorrow, I know mum won't tell us any details."

Ginny grinned shyly at her. "Mum hasn't figured out that we knick the newspapers every night and follow along with the case. She doesn't think we're old enough to know those kinds of thing yet."

"Yeah, Sirius won't tell me everything either, but I might get an overview." Sirius himself walked over a moment later, interrupting their speculation of what the trial might be like.

"All right, I'm heading out. Try not to get into any trouble, and hopefully I'll be back sooner rather than later." He gave her a quick hug, and Arya felt a bit bad about her sulky behavior; he was obviously tense about the upcoming trial.

"It'll be over soon, Sirius. It'll be alright." He smiled tensely and gave her shoulder a squeeze before disappearing through the floo again.

Ginny grabbed her hand and whispered, "Come on, let's go outside before dad corners you to talk about muggles. He's obsessed." She tugged her through the house and out the back door, Ron following on their heels. Ginny seemed to remember that she was shy around her, and dropped her hand like it was a heating iron, and this time even her ears turned red. Arya wondered how long it would take for her to get over that for good. The back garden was large and slightly over grown, with lots of vegetables starting to grow, and several magical plants she recognized from Remus's garden. There was also something walking through it- it looked like a potato with little arms and legs. Arya gasped and pointed at it "What is that thing?"

Ron and Ginny both jumped and looked around in alarm, searching for what had startled their friend so bad. Then Ron spotted the little creature. "You mean the garden Gnome?" He asked in confusion.

"A what?" Asked Arya. She had been beginning to feel as if she was getting a pretty good grasp on the Wizarding world, but apparently her limited exposure still left her in the dark on occasion. Ginny and Ron didn't seem to think a potato with arms and legs walking around their garden was anything out of the ordinary.

"A garden gnome." Supplied Ginny. "They're pests that are attracted to magical gardens. They're horrible for the plants, they nibble on everything, but dad thinks they're cute and won't get rid of them properly. Want to go catch one? They aren't hard to grab." And the small girl took off after a passing gnome, stalking it stealthily, and then pouncing on it. It squealed indignantly as her hands closed around it, and chattered angrily as Ginny walked back over with it. "Careful not to let it bite you, they have really sharp little teeth. Have you really never seen one before?"

Arya took it gingerly, and it shook its little fist at her. "Never even heard of them. They sure didn't live in my aunt's garden, and I never say any in Remus's either."

"He probably got rid of them like most people. Dad's just soft on them." Ron said, stooping to grab his own gnome from under a bush. "Watch this!" And he wound up his arm and tossed the gnome in a wide overhand throw over the garden wall. Arya gasped in surprise, and clutched her gnome closer.

"Won't that hurt the poor thing?" Sure they were ugly and ate people's gardens, but chucking one as far as you could throw seemed a little cruel.

"No." Said Ginny. "It just makes them dizzy, so they wander off in the wrong direction. Look." She pointed to where the gnome had landed. It had gotten to its little feet, and was walking off away from the Burrow. Arya decided that its friend could join it for company, and swung hers in a circle a few time before chucking it over the garden wall as well. It got to its feet as well, and ran off after the other gnome. Arya laughed, thinking that magic sure was strange. She'd never seen anything that silly in the muggle world.

Other gnomes had appeared in the garden, heads poking out of their hole to see what was going on, and a friendly contest began, to see who could catch the most gnomes, and who could throw them the farthest. Ginny was the best at catching them, but Arya and Ron were the best at throwing. Ron was winning until one of the gnomes bit Arya on the finger, and she waved her hand around trying to shake it loose; when it came off, it went flying further than any of the rest of them. They all laughed when Ron did an exaggerated impersonation of her hoping up and down, swinging her arm around in the attempt to shake it off.

After tiring of chasing gnomes around, Ginny led them off to an old oak tree on the property, and clambered up the low hanging branches like a squirrel. Ron and Arya followed slower, and Arya admitted that she had never climbed a tree before in her life. Ginny gave her an incredulous look from way over head, and started helping by pointing out the good handholds near her. Arya made it up to where Ginny and Ron were seated, on a very thick branch that provided plenty of room to sit on, and a thinner branch at stomach level to hold onto. Arya thought that it'd be fairly hard to see them from the ground, but that they had a good view of the back garden and the house. She wondered if she could find a tree like this on Remus's property.

Ginny and Ron told her stories of the adventures they'd had, growing up in such a large magical family. It sounded as if the twins, Fred and George, were quite the characters, and for the first time, Arya thought about siblings. How many children had her parents wanted? It seemed likely, that if they had lived, she'd have been an older sister. She imagined what her brothers or sisters would have looked like, maybe with her father's dark hair and glasses. It was a strange thought that had never entered into her daydreams of her parents. Now that it had occurred to her, it seemed obvious. She'd have to ask Sirius and Remus if her parents had ever said how many kids they intended to have. And now that she thought about it, both Remus and Sirius were only 27 years old; one or both of them might end up married with children eventually. And what would she think of that? Would they move out of the cottage if that happened? She supposed she would just have to worry about it if it happened.

She told them stories about the Dursleys, and though they were appalled by how awful they had been, they had a lot of fun abusing them soundly. Arthur eventually called them in for lunch, and Arya carefully picked her way down the tree, not caring to try Ginny's method of half falling through the branches, slowing herself with brief handholds on the way down. She had gone up like a squirrel, and down like a monkey. Arya had seen monkeys climb trees on a nature program once, and was sure that all Ginny needed was a tail. Arya and Ron took a safer but slower route, and she waited impatiently for them at the bottom.

Arthur had sandwiches and lemonade out at the kitchen table, and the promise of food had drawn the twins out from their room. They introduced themselves as Gred and Forge, and finished each other's sentences as they spoke. It didn't seem as if they were really two separate people at first, but after a while, Arya thought that one was a little quieter than the other, though it was hard to tell. Ron eyed them warily, though Ginny didn't seem affected by their presence, and lunch passed without any uproar. Arya was mainly occupied by answering Arthurs many questions about muggles. Arya rather thought that he knew less about the muggle world than she did about the wizarding one. The customs of muggle society and technology were entirely foreign to him, and Arya thought it was strange how two societies could live side by side, and know so little about each other. She answered his questions as best she could, but was a bit relieved when lunch was over, and Ginny and Ron dragged her off again. This time they went up the stairs, to the very top room of the house, right under the attic.

It was Ron's room, and it was plastered with posters of the quidditch team the Chudley Cannons. They covered almost every inch of wall, and they were all neon orange; the effect was quite startling. Ron started quidditch talk, and Arya joined it, talking about learning to fly with Sirius a few weeks ago, and flying over the cottage where Sirius had placed charms to keep them from the notice of muggles. Ginny was quiet, picking at a rough spot on the carpet; Arya just assumed that she wasn't interested in flying, and changed the topic to something else. The day was wearing on, and Arya was growing eager to hear news of the trial. She was having fun with her friends, but she was also waiting to hear voices from downstairs.

It was around three in the afternoon before she heard a woman's voice downstairs, and new that Sirius and Mrs. Weasley must have arrived. Ron stopped her from rushing down the stairs, suggesting that they might hear more if they crept quietly and listened outside the kitchen entrance. Ginny went first, and Arya made sure to skip the steps that she did, guessing that they must squeak. The three of them paused outside of the kitchen door, listening for the voices within.

Sirius was speaking as they arrived. "-drew the whole thing out. Fudge apparently insisted on the spectacle, media and public included. Trying to distract everyone from what a disaster the whole thing has actually been. Putting their own spin on it, and leaning on the Prophet, as usual."

"Our part wasn't so bad, straight forward questioning from Dumbledore and then back to sitting on the sidelines. But his mother was there, the poor old dear, couldn't believe what was happening. Dumbledore was kind, as he always is, but it was hard to watch. And Pettigrew wasn't any better than she was, spent half the time pleading and the rest of the time saying that it wasn't his fault, that he had no choice; even after Dumbledore had extracted his memories that proved otherwise. It was really very tedious." Mrs. Weasley's voice sounded tired, and there was the sound of chairs scraping back against the floor.

"Exhausting in more ways than one; seeing that man again… It made my blood boil, my stomach churn, and my heart freeze up all at once. Life in prison doesn't feel like enough somehow; but at least it's over. That Skeeter woman cornered us on our way out, too. Asking all kinds of nosy questions, like did we think it appropriate for Arya to live with two bachelors, and was that really a good life style for a young girl to grow up in? I can only imagine what she'll put in the papers tomorrow; I can already feel the insinuations coming." Sirius's tone was cynical, but he chuckled darkly at the end. "How has she been today? I hope she was distracted from dwelling too much, she really wanted to come along, but I wouldn't hear of it."

"Of course that was the right call to make, Sirius." Said Molly reassuringly. "She's a very smart girl, but seven is still too young for that kind of thing."

"She, Ron, and Ginny have been inseparable all day. I don't think they've been too hung up on hearing about the trial. One good thing to come of all this is that those three have become friends; I think Ginny's even forgotten to be too shy around her."

Arya glanced at Ginny, who had flushed a deep red at her father's words, and elbowed her in the side. When Ginny looked over at her, she gave her a one armed hug around the shoulders, and Ginny grinned slightly in return. Arya thought that perhaps she wouldn't revert to shyness when they parted again. Since the adults had stopped speaking of the trial, Arya decided it was time to enter the room, and flounced into the kitchen as if she hadn't just been spying outside the door. Ron and Ginny followed after her, Ginny managing to look natural, but Ron looking a bit guilty. Arya had learned with the Dursleys that the best way to get away with something you weren't supposed to be doing was to act as if you had every right to be doing it.

Sirius stood from the table, and she walked over to give him a hug. "Hey! How'd it go?" She asked as he sat back down.

"It was okay, as far as those things go. He was sentenced to life in Azkaban, so this will be the last we need to worry about it. How was your day?"

She told him about de-gnoming the garden, and was glad when it made him laugh. He looked tired and strained, and some of the tension seemed to leave him when he laughed. Ginny urged Ron to do his impersonation, and everyone roared with laughter as he imitated Arya's gnome incident.

Arya hugged both her friends' goodbye, and Sirius shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with many promises of getting together again soon, and for better reasons than trials, before they both disappeared through the floo.

Sirius collapsed next to Remus on the couch, and sank back with a grateful sigh. He hadn't felt so exhausted since the night after being freed. It'd been just a month, though it felt like it was longer, and thanks the St. Mungos array of potions he had been feeling almost back to normal. He had gained weight and muscle, and no longer looked like a cross between a scarecrow and a man. Today had been mentally draining, and his body was feeling the aftermath. He had expected that Arya would be pestering Remus and him for answers as soon as they arrived home, but when he cracked an eye to look, she just gave them a considering glance, and walked over to the stove to heat water for tea. Sirius glanced at Remus, who had a book open on his lap, but whose eyes weren't moving down the page at all. They must look just as exhausted as they felt, and Arya had decided to wait to question them. He was impressed by the amount of tact she showed, considering how young she was; on the other hand, he was willing to bet that she'd also been spying through the kitchen door at the Weasley's.

She brought over two cups of tea, and Remus stared at his after accepting it as if he didn't know what it was for a moment. She walked away, and then came back with a tin of biscuits and sat between them in the middle of the couch. Sirius smiled, and helped himself to a biscuit; she had the right idea about how to unwind.

"So, have either of you considered what happens to our living arrangement if one of you gets married and has babies?" She asked casually, and Remus choked on his tea.

Ginny Weasley's POV

After the sun had set, and her parents had made their way to their bedroom, Ginny Weasley could be found sneaking out the back door into garden. As she made her way to the shed, she removed a small hair pin from behind her ear, and used it to pick the old padlock on the garden shed door. The lock clicked easily after barely a moment of twisting, and she remembered with amusement the first time she'd done this; it had taken her fifteen minutes of fiddling with it to get it open. Once inside, she selected one of the old brooms that were stacked inside, and closed the door carefully behind her. She had learned the hard way to change into her normal trousers, after her mum had found grass stains on the cuffs of her pajamas and she'd been forced to think of an excuse as to why she'd been outside in the middle of the night.

She mounted the broom and kicked off hard from the dew soaked grass, shooting off into the night. She had been doing this since her sixth birthday, even bundling up in winter and coming out, stepping in her father's footsteps so that her foot prints wouldn't be found the next day. Her mother was over protective of her only daughter, and thought that the boys played quidditch too rough for her; they had caught on to the idea, and flying had suddenly become a boy's only sport around their house. She had started sneaking out to fly because she wanted to prove them wrong, but didn't want to insist and then make a fool out of herself by not knowing how to fly; yet even after she had figured it out, she hadn't come forward and insisted to play, and she hadn't stopped sneaking out to fly. It had become her time to be alone and think, and such time was hard to come by in such a large family.

As she soared over the Burrow, she thought about her day, the wind cold on her face and hands, and the clouds parting above her to let the stars peak through. Ever since she could remember, her mother had read her a story before bed every night and Ginny had always made her read her favorite; Arya Potter, the Girl Who Lived. Then Arya Potter had showed up at her house two weeks ago, sitting across the lunch table, talking casually to her. With six older brothers, she had never been shy – if you wanted anything in this household, you had to put yourself out there to get it, and there was no time to be bashful. So the overwhelming shyness that had come over her that day had been startling, she hadn't known how to handle it. She still cringed to remember sticking her elbow in the butter dish, and hated that she blushed so easily. But Arya Potter, the savior of the wizarding world and hero who had defeated the dark lord, didn't know what a garden gnome was. She had never climbed a tree before today, had never even heard of wizards and witches until a few weeks ago. She was a hero, but she was also entirely human, and not that much older than Ginny was. It had been a weird realization to come to today- to reconcile the character from her story with the girl she had become friends with.

She had picked up her old story book tonight before sneaking out, and it had suddenly seemed very silly to her. Arya had been a year old; she couldn't even remember what had happened. Surviving was a strange thing to become famous for, and Arya had seemed most happy when Ginny had ceased treating her like she was famous. Ginny felt a bit older after figuring this out, like she had been forced to leave a piece of her childhood behind her as she flew. But she also felt like she could be more true to herself now, and knew her uncharacteristic shyness wouldn't rear its ugly head again. She'd be able to meet her new friend in the future without feeling inferior, and she felt a weight lift from her chest with relief. She tilted her broom upward, and shot further into the sky under the starlight above the Burrow.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N. **Thank you to everyone who reviewed!

I'm picking up the pace of the story a bit here, because I need to shorten the amount of time until Arya starts Hogwarts, so from now on, weeks or months will be eclipsed between chapters.

Thank you for reading, please leave a review if you have the time!

Chapter 11

The First Birthday

On the morning of her eighth birthday, Arya could be found outside, stretched out on an old blanket in a sunny patch of garden, with her kitten curled up by her side, and a large book she had intended to read discarded in the grass. She had her eyes closed and her face toward the sun; after a few months of summer, her ivory skin was hidden under a vast amount of freckles. It was July 31st, and it had been the best summer of her life so far. She had divided her time between reading magical and muggle books, flying with Sirius, playing with the Weasley siblings, eating more food than she'd ever had before, and spending time with Remus and Sirius. Hagrid and Tonks had been regular visitors since Hogwarts term had ended in June, and their presence added some variety to the long summer days spent at the cottage. Sometimes Arya had nightmares that everything had been a dream, that she had never actually left the Dursleys, and she had awoke panicked a few times, convinced that she was locked in her cupboard under the stairs again. Despite the occasional bad dreams, she was the happiest she had ever been; and today was extra special, because it was her birthday.

The Dursleys had never celebrated her birthday, had rarely even acknowledged that it was her birthday. Sirius and Remus on the other hand, had found out about her lack of birthday parties and had been preparing for the day ever since. She had been kept out of the loop about it, that's why she had been exiled from the cottage a few hours after breakfast; the last minute preparations were apparently underway. The day was hot and sunny, and they had fed her all her favorite breakfast foods, so Arya didn't mind the chance to lie down and spend a lazy morning soaking up the sun. She wondered idly how Dudley managed to function after he ate such copious amounts of food at every meal. She had a large appetite herself, but she could never have reached his level of pigging out, though perhaps she had come closer this morning than she cared to admit.

Half an hour later, Sirius called her inside, and she stretched languidly on her blanket before standing up and carrying Mr. Kitty in with her. The little black kitten had grown quite a bit in the last few months, and carrying him now required two arms. He mewed pathetically as she moved him, and she rolled her eyes. The noises he made when he was woken up from a nap sounded like he was dying from cruel mistreatment.

She looked around curiously when she entered the cottage, but she didn't see anything out of the ordinary, except that Remus wasn't there. She had seen several flashes of green from the fire place from outside, so she knew the floo had been in use. Due to the protections around the cottage, she had assumed it would just be a few people over for lunch to celebrate, but now it occurred to her that it might not be taking place at the cottage at all. Sirius confirmed that it wasn't when he held out the jar of floo powder, and told her to go to the Burrow. "Don't open your eyes when you fall out of the grate, Remus will stop you from falling, and I don't want the surprise ruined!" He grinned, and she raised her eyebrows as she took a pinch of powder; he was obviously enjoying himself tremendously.

She closed her eyes as she whipped through fire places, and resisted the urge to open them as she felt herself slow, and then start to topple from the grate at the Burrow; it was like a bizarre wizarding style trust exercise. As promised, Remus caught her as she fell forward, and set her on her feet again easily. She heard the woosh of the flames as Sirius arrived behind her, and he and Remus steered her from the room, her eyes still squeezed shut tightly. She knew they had led her outside when she felt the warm sun on her face, and smelled the garden and grass.

"Alright," Came Remus's voice. "You can open your eyes now." She did so, and then jumped in surprise at the large crowd of people standing in front of her.

"Happy Birthday!" They all shouted, and Arya felt an unexpected surge of emotion; after never having anyone pay attention to her birthdays before, the sight of so many people there for her celebration felt overwhelming. She felt her heart swell with happiness, and hurriedly blinked back tears, unwilling to cry in front of so many people. All the Weasley's were there, as was Tonks, Andromeda, Ted, Hagrid, and two people she didn't even know. One was an older woman, dressed in old fashioned green robes that looked way too hot for July, and a matching green hat that had what looked like a dead stuffed vulture on top. Arya tried not to stare at it, and looked instead at the boy who was with her; he looked to be around Arya's age, with dark hair, blue eyes, pudgy cheeks, and a look of perpetual embarrassment. Arya suppose that if Sirius took to wearing a dead animal on his head, she might have that expression on her face a lot as well.

Ginny and Ron rushed forward, and Ginny tackled her in a bear hug, all traces of former shyness and awe erased. Arya had been very relieved that after their second meeting, her friend's idealized view of her that had caused Ginny to be shy and embarrassed, had never reasserted itself. Arya returned her friends hug, laughing at her exuberance. Ron clapped her on the back after Ginny let her go, and Arya rolled her eyes before giving him a hug as well. He flushed slightly as the twins cat-called, but Arya ignored them.

Molly came forward, and Arya realized that everyone was in the back garden because there was a row of tables groaning under the weight of all the food laid out on them, and there was no way all of them would have fit in the kitchen. "Arya dear, happy birthday! I don't think you've met Mrs. Longbottom, or her grandson Neville. His mum was a good friend of your mother's, so Sirius thought it would be good for the two of you to meet. He'll be starting Hogwarts at the same time as you and Ron in a few years."

The older woman and the boy moved forward, and Mrs. Longbottom shook her hand formally, Neville hanging back shyly. Sirius clapped a hand on her back, and said "Alice and your mum were best friends, did just about everything together. It wasn't so surprising that they started their families at the same time – Neville here is turning eight today as well. Lily would have wanted you two to be friends." He smiled kindly at Neville, who was slightly flushed, and scuffing at the grass with the toe of his shoe.

It was obvious that he was uncomfortable, and Arya could tell that neither Ron nor Ginny had met him before. Arya wanted to get to know him, if their parents had been friends, but she didn't know where to start. Thankfully, Ginny wasn't hindered by new acquaintances, as long as they weren't famous ones, and she made the effort to include him in the group.

Molly called for everyone to be seated, and Ginny grabbed Neville and drew him along with them as they took seats clumped together at the end of a table. His grandmother stayed by Mrs. Weasley, and Arya hoped he'd relax a bit away from her domineering presence. There was an enormous amount of food, and Arya knew that Sirius and Remus had informed Mrs. Weasley of all her favorites, because everything was there. She had thought after breakfast that she might never be hungry again, but she had been wrong; she heaped her plate with everything within reach, and conversation lapsed as everyone ate.

She noticed that Mrs. Longbottom was seated at the far end of the table with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, and Tonks's parents. Hagrid took up a large section of seats across from Remus and Tonks, who were talking about something Arya couldn't hear. Bill was looking a little neglected on Tonks's other side, but she didn't appear to notice. Charlie was talking with Hagrid about dragons, Percy was eating quietly on Charlie's other side, and the twins were whispering together and shooting him devious looks. Arya looked across her heaping plate of food at Neville, and wanted to ask him about his parents, but didn't think it would be appropriate. If they were still around, she assumed they would be there for his birthday; she suddenly felt a deep connection to the quiet, pudgy boy; they suddenly seemed very similar, sharing a birthday, and both without their parents. He reminded her a bit of herself when she had lived with the Dursleys; lacking the confidence to speak up before strangers, though she got the impression that his gran wasn't awful, just overly stern and rigid. He seemed cripplingly shy, but then again, Ginny had been that way with her as well. What would have happened if Arya hadn't tried so hard to get through to her? Would she have ever gotten over it on her own, or would it have gone on for years? Perhaps Neville just needed the same kind of encouragement. Then again, Ginny's personality wasn't naturally a shy one, whereas Neville might be like that all the time, not just around her.

However the case may be, she decided to put in the effort, both for his sake, and because Sirius had said that her mother would have wanted it. Ginny was great at putting him at ease, chatting enough to make up for his silence; she may have been the smallest of them, but she had the most energetic presence, bouncing up and down in her seat as she ate and spoke. Ginny put him at ease, and Arya began to draw him out of his shell; she would ask a question, Neville would answer with as few words as possible, Ginny would keep the flow of the conversation going, and Arya would ask him another question. When Arya asked about his previous incidents with accidental magic, she thought it would be a safe topic, seeing as she, Ginny, and Ron had amused themselves with it on their first meeting. Neville, however, looked rather miserable and said that he hadn't really produced much magic so far, accidental or otherwise.

Arya didn't know what to say, and was happy when Percy spoke up from a few spaces down. "That's actually not uncommon. It probably has more to do with your disposition rather than your magical abilities. More outgoing personalities tend to have more accidental outbursts, for instance Ginny here had quite a lot, but I had rather few, and Charlie, who kept to himself a lot, had almost none. Both of us do just fine in classes though, so you won't know until you get fitted for your own wand."

The way he talked made Arya sure that he didn't say it just to be kind, but that he was trying to educate them. While his condescending tone was a bit annoying, in a way it was better than just being kind, because it was said so matter of fact. Neville looked rather hopeful, but muttered that his gran wanted him to use his dad's old wand. Percy frowned disapprovingly, and said "No one will get very good results with another's wand, even if it is passed down from parent to child. If finances aren't an issue, I'd recommend requesting to be fitted for your own wand instead." Percy went back to eating without noticing that Neville looked intimidated by the very thought of suggesting that idea to his grandmother.

As Arya was scraping the last of her food from her plate, Mrs. Weasley made a trip into the house, and came out again a moment later, floating a huge chocolate cake out in front of her with her wand. She directed it to the table in front of Arya and Neville, and everyone sang happy birthday, Sirius's and Hagrid's voices rising above everyone else's, though not in key. Arya grinned, and Neville looked happy too, and they leaned forward together to blow out the candles. Arya was already stuffed, but she managed a large piece of cake anyway, and was impressed when Ginny managed the same; she was the smallest, but Arya swore that she had eaten more than herself. Mrs. Weasley cleared the tables with a wave of her wand, and summoned the gifts from where they had been kept inside. Arya's eyes widened in astonishment; she had never received a birthday gift before, and she hadn't really been expecting so many. Neville looked a bit surprised to see a good amount of them land in front of him, but Arya was glad to see it. Sirius had made special effort to include him in the celebration.

Everyone gathered around, and Remus had his camera out and ready as she and Neville tore into the pile of presents. She opened a bulky package from Hagrid first, and it took her a moment to realize that it was a small motorcycle jacket, made from a leather like material, with feminine embroidery and fringe down the back. She squealed in delight, jumping up and hugging him, which was easier since he was sitting down. He seemed touched by her enthusiasm, waving off her praise of it while looking very pleased with her reaction. Arya thought it was awesome, and put it on right away, even though it was a hot summer day.

Remus had gotten her a box of Honeydukes finest chocolates, and from Sirius there was a book titled "Learning the Theory of Animagus Transformations, a Collection of Essays for Beginners by Minerva M. McGonagall. Arya bounced up and down in excitement; she had been pestering Sirius about it for the last two weeks, and had dithered about whether she could start studying it yet. When she unwrapped the book, he told her she could learn the theories, and after she had reached third year, he'd help with the practical side of it. Mrs. Weasley looked very disapproving, but didn't say anything, and Arya failed to notice the look she was giving Sirius. There were various other small gifts from the Weasley's and Tonks, and she was very touched by Ginny's gift of a handmade bracelet, of which Ginny had made two – one for Arya and one for herself. Arya had seen other girls in her grade in school do the same thing, but had never been close enough to any of them to be included. She hugged her friend and put it on right away, feeling less like a freak that the Dursleys had called her, and more like a normal girl.

After opening presents was over, and they had digested their food enough to be active again, Ginny led them off to the orchard, where Arya, Ginny, Ron, Neville and the twins started a game involving running around and throwing the fruit from the crabapple trees at each other. The small red fruits were rock hard, and it quickly became a free for all, everyone running around like mad, pelting each other with handfuls plucked from the branches over their heads. The twins worked together, teaming up on the rest of them, and even Neville forgot to be bashful while they played. Ginny was the sneakiest, climbing the trees and dropping down behind people to ambush them, and Arya was the fastest runner, outpacing even tall and gangly Ron. By the time they flopped down in the grass in exhaustion, Arya's sides hurt from running and laughing so hard.

They eventually wandered back toward the rest of the party, to find that the adults had broken into smaller groups, chatting and lounging at the tables, or retreating into the shade of the house. She excused herself and made her way inside to use the privy, and from outside the privy she heard Tonks and Bill come into the sitting room behind her. Bill was saying that he'd been offered a position to train with the curse breakers at Gringotts bank, but it was with the Egyptian branch, and he hadn't told anyone about the offer yet.

"Why not?!" Came Tonks's voice. "That's a bloody brilliant offer, Bill. I'd have thought you'd have jumped all over it. I know you want to get out and see more of the world, and you've been talking about working with curse breaking since the beginning of sixth year."

"Yeah, I know. But you're hoping to get into the auror training program, and that'll keep you so busy, and tied up close to home, and I don't know… I thought maybe I could find something closer as well. Maybe work with the local branch of the bank or something." He sounded hesitant and a bit tense, but Arya had no idea why. He didn't ask a question directly, but his voice rose at the end of his last sentence, as if asking her what she wanted him to do. Arya frowned in confusion, feeling like there was a double meaning in this conversation that she didn't understand.

There was a long pause before Tonks responded, and her voice was so quite that Arya almost missed it. "You should take the offer, Bill. I don't want you to stay behind, and then feel disappointed when things don't go how you wanted."

"I thought… Before Spring break, it seemed like you… But then you came back, and suddenly nothing. I just don't get it, Dora." He sounded frustrated and a bit dejected.

"I'm sorry Bill. I didn't mean to lead you on or anything, I'm just not interested in you like that, anymore. I… I don't know why. I'm sorry." Tonks sounded painfully awkward, and then there was the sound of footsteps leaving the room beyond.

Arya winced in sympathy, understanding the situation a bit better now, and hovered by the door of the privy, not wanting Bill to know she had overheard his rejection. After a few moments, she heard his footsteps leave the room as well, and she made her way outside again a few minutes later.

Sirius POV

After a long afternoon at the Burrow, it was finally time to return to the cottage, as the sun was hanging low in the sky over the back garden party. Sirius called Arya back from the orchard, and the whole group of children came swarming up around the table again. Arya had grass stains on her knees from playing in the grass, and Sirius thought he saw a crabapple sticking out of her messy hair. The other kids seemed to be in similar states of disarray, and they all looked happy and tired. The Longbottom boy looked like he had the time of his life, and Sirius knew he would have to remember to invite him along again sometime. Life with Augusta was probably a bit dull and formal for a young boy, and time spent with others his own age would probably be good for the lad. Lily had been named his godmother, and Sirius felt a bit responsible for his wellbeing since she was gone.

Remus performed a spell to transport Arya's gifts to the cottage, and Sirius and Arya said goodbye to everyone, thanking the Weasley's for hosting the excellent party. Remus lingered by Tonks as Sirius and Arya headed home through the floo, tired from a long day of good food and company.

Sirius sent Arya to her room to wash up and change clothes, and sat down at the kitchen table to read a letter that his owl had delivered when they were away. He heard the shower run as he unfolded the parchment to find that it was from Dumbledore, who had actually accepted his invitation to come over for dinner that night.

Remus arrived through the floo as Arya reappeared from her room, freshly showered and dressed in clean clothes. "I invited Dora over for dinner, hope you don't mind. Is Albus coming as well?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on Remus inviting his cousin as well. Dora had been a frequent visitor over the summer, and Sirius liked her; it had been a bit odd at first, because he remembered her as a young girl. He was able to see her on equal footing now though, and she had become a good friend to both him and Remus, and she and Arya got on well too. "Albus wrote to say that he'll be here by seven, so we have a few hours to spare."

"Great, Dora said she'll stop by around six thirty." Remus disappeared out the back door to the garden, and Arya moved to the couch with her new book about animagus transformations. It was way beyond her level of magical understanding, but she read anyway, and Sirius settled into the couch, resigning himself to answering her questions for the next hour or so. As expected, every time she reached a passage she didn't understand, he was prevailed upon for an explanation. Once she understood something though, she didn't seem to ever forget it; she had a mind like a sponge, and absorbed information at an alarming rate. Sirius wondered if either Lily or James had been quiet so intelligent at her age, he hadn't known them until they were eleven. He had been at the top of his grade himself, but he didn't think he'd had the amount of ambition to learn as Arya did at eight years old.

The time until their guests arrived passed quietly, Sirius and Arya sharing the couch with Mr. Kitty, who had taken up residence on Sirius's lap, purring happily. Remus returned from the garden with a basket of fresh vegetables, and started preparing a lighter meal for dinner than they'd had for breakfast or lunch. Dora tripped out of the grate at six thirty in a flash of green fire, caught herself on the kitchen chair, and waved a roll of parchment around excitedly. "I got in! I've been accepted into auror training! Just got my NEWT results and my letter of acceptance!"

Sirius jumped up from the couch, to the cat's dismay, and Dora leapt at him with her customary leaping bear hug. "Told you you'd get in! Congratulations!" Sirius set her down, and she leapt on Remus as he appeared out of the kitchen area, hugging him as well. Sirius grinned as his friend barely managed not to go over backwards. "When do you start?" He asked as she let go of Remus.

"Next week Monday. Says here that we'll go in three days a week for standard training, and two days a week we'll be assigned a private mentor that will stay with us for the next three years for on the job training." She was grinning broadly, and bouncing on the balls of her feet with nervous energy. Sirius wondered if the ministry would know what hit them when she started there next week. Arya put down her book, and came over to give Dora a hug as well; Dora picked her all the way up and swung her in a wide circle enthusiastically, and Arya shrieked with laughter, wobbling dizzily when she was set back on her feet.

Remus broke out a bottle of mead purchased from the Three Broomsticks, and poured three glasses for the adults. They toasted Dora's success, and Arya's birthday. Dora insisted on helping Remus cook dinner, and everything was just about ready by the time Dumbledore arrived through the floo. He stepped gracefully out of the grate with a swish of his periwinkle blue robes, carrying a wrapped package under one arm. His eyes were twinkling over his half-moon spectacles as Sirius stepped forward to shake his hand.

"Albus! Thanks for coming. Arya's been telling me for months that we should have you over for dinner."

Arya, standing slightly behind him, blushed at the comment. She had indeed been pestering him to invite Dumbledore, both because she thought it would be nice for the older man to have some friends, and also because she had read all about him from her wizarding history books. She blushed and hung back for a moment, before steeling her resolve and coming forward with her arm extended to shake his hand and introduce herself.

Sirius had to hide his grin behind a hand at Dumbledore's bemused expression; Arya sometimes acted like someone three times her actual age, though she was getting more comfortable with playing and having fun with kids her own age. "Hello, I'm Arya. It's nice to meet you."

Dumbledore smiled down at her and shook her small hand in his long fingered but delicate grip. "It's very nice to meet you as well, Arya. My name is Albus Dumbledore."

"I know! I read all about you." She was still blushing a bit, but met his eyes squarely.

"Indeed! Sirius tells me you're an avid reader, just like your mother. I expect you'll tire of hearing this, but you do look extraordinarily like her, especially your eyes." Arya beamed happily, and Sirius thought that Dumbledore might be wrong; he didn't think she'd ever get tired of hearing that.

Remus announced that dinner was ready, and everyone crowded around the kitchen table, Arya snatching the seat next to Dumbledore, and Sirius knew that Dumbledore was going to be subjected to about a hundred questions as he tried to eat. Dumbledore congratulated Dora on her excellent marks and acceptance to the auror program, and no one bothered to ask how he knew about it already. "You'll have to give my regards to my old friend Alastor when you start next week, he should be there to witness the first few days of training."

"Of course, Professor. If he curses me for walking toward him though, I'll blame you entirely." Every one chuckled a bit, except Arya, who had never heard of Alastor before.

Sirius poured a glass of mead for his old headmaster as they began to eat the stir fry that Remus and Dora had made using the fresh vegetables from the garden. As he expected, Arya began to ask Dumbledore questions in between bites of food, and Sirius left her to it, thinking that it was good for those two to get acquainted. Remus and Dora were talking about what type of training she was likely going to receive over the next few years, and Sirius found himself the odd man out between the two conversations taking place on either side. He was content to eat and listen, curious about how Dumbledore and Arya would get along. Dumbledore was the most brilliant person Sirius had ever met, Arya was the brightest child he'd ever come across, and he was sure it would be an interesting combination.

Dumbledore answered her questions patiently, and began to question her back, so that there was a steady back and forth of information, rather like a couple playing twenty questions. Arya asked about his work with Nicholas Flamel that she had read about, and about Hogwarts, and about different types of magic. Dumbledore asked her about how she liked living at the cottage, and about what type of magic she had produced, about her favorite books, about her friends that she had made at the Weasley's, and about how she felt about discovering she was a witch.

Dumbledore didn't once seem to grow bored of her veritable flood of talking, but listened intently as she talked of all the books she'd read, both muggle and magical. She talked about how excited she was to learn that there were other magical people, but explained how she had already known she had weird powers, about how she had accidently set her sock on fire, but was now able to make objects move without touching them. She talked about how much she liked Ginny and Ron, and how she had met Neville today, and liked him too. She showed him her bracelet that Ginny had made her, and ran into her room and back to show him the jacket Hagrid had gotten her. She talked about the visit to Godric's Hollow, about flying over the fields in the backyard, and about learning to brew simple potions with Sirius.

As the meal was finishing up, the kitten jumped up onto Arya's lap, and she scooped him up and held him up to Dumbledore. "And this is Mr. Kitty. Sirius got him for me in Diagon Alley; I've never had a pet before. He's pretty great, but he jumps on my face at three in the morning a lot. I've tried to tell him not to, but he doesn't listen at all. He goes back to sleep eventually though, and he's too cute to lock out of my room, so I just let him get away with it." She deposited the kitten in Dumbledore's lap, and it proceeded to swipe at his long silvery beard. Dumbledore chuckled and scratched it behind the ears gently; it settled down on his lap and began to purr contentedly. "Owls seem to understand everyone pretty well, and I met a little garden snake outside the other day that could talk to me, but Mr. Kitty either doesn't know what I'm saying or doesn't care to listen; I still haven't figured out which."

Sirius froze, and Remus and Dora fell still as well, looking over at her in shock. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and leaned forward slightly, looking at her intently for a moment. She noticed the sudden change in atmosphere, and looked up in confusion. "What?"

"Did you talk to the snake and it listened, or did you converse back and forth with it?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"It came up and joined me on my blanket when I was reading in the grass. It was just a little thing so it didn't really freak me out. It curled up in the sun next to me, and I've read that snakes liked to do that, so I just said Hi to the little guy, and was going to keep reading, but it said Hi back. I kind of figured that was the sort of thing that happens with wizards. I asked it why it was on my blanket, and it said that the black fabric was warmer than the grass. He lives under the foundation of the cottage, and hunts mice in the grass. It seemed like it wanted to sleep, so I just went back to reading." She looked around at their stunned faces. "Is that not a normal wizard thing?" She asked apprehensively. "I read in one of my books that one of the founders of Hogwarts could do it."

Sirius wiped the stunned look off his face, and Dumbledore answered calmly. "It is not unheard of, but it is very rare. Salazar Slytherin is the most known parselmouth in the Wizarding world, but the most recently known one was named Tom Riddle, who later named himself Lord Voldemort." Arya blanched, and Sirius shot Dumbledore a reproving look. Dumbledore continued "I know that it is not comfortable to think of yourself as sharing traits with such a man as he, but it is important to realize that it is not one's abilities that make up who they are, but instead their choices. Chatting with a garden snake does not bother me in the least, whereas Tom Riddles liking of control and domination was a very early sign of trouble. Do not worry yourself over much about it, dear girl. It has a bad reputation because the people who used it had bad reputations, not because it is innately bad itself. Your little friend in the garden does not sound the least bit sinister to me." He smiled at her with his bright blue eyes twinkling, and she seemed reassured by his comforting words.

Remus shook himself, and walked to the kitchen to receive the treacle tart that had been made for dessert. No one mentioned the snake again, and the tension slowly eased from the room. Arya had never had treacle tart before, and declared decisively that it was now her favorite.

After they had all cleared their plates, Dumbledore produced the wrapped package he had brought with him, and set it before Arya on the table. "This is not much of a birthday present, since it already belongs to you. Your father left it in my possession before he died, and I now return it to you. No doubt you will get in as much trouble as he did with it." Sirius sat up straight as Arya curiously undid the wrappings, and sure enough, James's old invisibility cloak slid smoothly from the paper, pooling in Arya's lap.

She held it up in front of her, studying its glistening, silvery material. "What is it?" She asked, looking at Dumbledore in confusion.

It was Sirius that answered though. "It's a cloak. Try it on, and then look down at your feet.

Arya stood and threw the cloak over her shoulders, though it was much too big for her. She disappeared from the neck down, and gasped audibly as she looked down at herself. "An invisibility cloak? Aren't these really rare?" She looked up at Dumbledore, "You said it was my fathers, but then how does it still work? My book on magical artifacts says that they develop flaws after about seven years, but this one looks perfect!"

Dumbledore smiled in delight. "You really are a very clever witch! This is the only cloak I've ever seen that has never failed; it has been handed down your father's side of the family for generations. Your father told me that it traced back to the Peverrel family line, which has since gone extinct through the male line, meaning that it was passed down the female bloodline as well as the male. You may want to pick up a book on magical bloodlines sometime; you might find it very entertaining and educational, though you may have to special order it from Flourish and Blotts." Sirius cast him a sharp look; with Dumbledore, it always seemed like there was more to his words than first appeared. He seemed to like people to figure it out for themselves, however.

Arya looked at Dumbledore with a piercing stare that reminded Sirius of Dumbledore's own discerning gaze. She nodded seriously, and then flipped up the hood and disappeared from view entirely. The next half hour was spent with Arya attempting to move around the room and surprise them without detection, and had gotten fairly good at it before it was time for her to go to bed. She took it off reluctantly, and folded it onto the bookshelf, before coming over to give Remus and Sirius a hug, and thanking them for such a good birthday. Sirius smiled and hugged her back fondly, and Remus tousled her hair. She paused in front of Dumbledore, and then gave him a hug as well. He looked startled for a moment, and then patted her on the back gently before she retreated to her room for sleep. Sirius thought that Dumbledore's eyes looked rather bright as he watched her go.

"Doesn't she remind you of Lily?" Sirius asked, fetching another bottle of mead for the four of them.

Dumbledore contemplated for a moment as Sirius filled his glass, and when he spoke, his voice was very thoughtful. "She reminds me of Lily, and James as well. She has his presence, and her mother's kindness. She reminds me a bit of Tom as well; his ambition and lack of regard for following rules, along with her paseltongue abilities. But mostly, Sirius, she reminds me of myself at her age; brilliant, (if I do say so myself), ambitious, and eager to learn everything. My path through life was not as certain as it may seem; things could have turned out very differently for me, and for the world. Her kindness gives me hope that her future will be more certain than mine was." Dumbledore spoke quietly, and his words seemed almost a confession, as if he was ashamed of himself for not always being perfect.

Sirius remembered that Dumbledore didn't know that Lily had shared all the information that Bathilda Bagshot had told her with him. He knew of Dumbledore's past friendship with Grindawald, and of his troubled family history.

"She'll have something that you never had, Albus; someone to guide her on the proper path." Dumbledore looked thankful for the comment, and the subject changed to lighter topics as they lingered over their drinks in the night.

Neville Longbottom POV

Neville Longbottom had just had the best birthday of his life. The lunch celebration had been followed up by a formal dinner at Longbottom manner, but the lunch at the Weasley's had been enough fun to make up for it. Ginny, Arya, and Ron had been the first people of his age group that he had spent much time with, and he'd had the time of his life. Arya had mentioned getting together again soon, and Neville felt a warm glow in his chest, when he remembered how Ron and Ginny had chimed in, telling him that they'd have their mum invite him over to play again soon.

Now it was after dinner, and his grandmother's guests had left for home; none of them were much younger than his grandmother, and they no longer stayed out late. He was the only child in the family, and he had very limited exposure to other children. He had a tutor instead of attending a school, and he longed for the day he would get his Hogwarts letter. If he did get one; he hadn't had any outbursts of underage magic, and his relatives were growing concerned that he might be a squib. He kept remembering what the older Weasley brother had said, telling him that it wasn't necessarily an indicator of magical ability, but instead reflected his withdrawn personality. He was thinking about the wand he would bring to Hogwarts to begin his magical studies if he got his letter, thinking about his grandmother's intentions of him inheriting his father's wand. He had always wanted to live up to his parents, had always felt that his grandmother was expecting him to live up to his father's name, always comparing him to her son and finding him wanting.

He loved his grandmother, and he knew she missed her son terribly, but it still hurt to be continually compared to his father, to have his short comings remarked upon so often. His palms felt sweaty, and his hands were actually shaking; he had never been able to incite confrontation before. He didn't really know why he was so afraid; he knew his grandmother would never hurt him. But he couldn't help being terrified. He drew a deep breath, and stood up, walking into the drawing room where his grandmother was sitting, sipping a small glass of sherry, already changed into her pajamas and robe.

She looked up from the book she had been reading and saw him standing hesitantly in the doorway. "You should be in bed Neville. What are you still doing up?"

"I… I've been thinking. When I go to Hogwarts, I thought maybe I could go to Ollivander's and be fitted for my own wand." He said it all in a rush, as if it would be less painful for her to hear that way.

Augusta's eyes widened in surprise, and then her mouth narrowed into a thin line of anger before she spoke in a tightly controlled voice. "Your father's wand will do just fine for you, if you turn out to have enough magic to get into Hogwarts. You should be proud to carry it, Neville. You should be proud of him."

Neville felt a sudden spike of anger, fueled by grief and resentment. "I am proud of him! But I'm not him! I'll never be you're son, and I'm sorry, okay?!" He felt tears burn his eyes in shame and anger, and suddenly the sherry bottle on the drawing room table burst, and a sudden wind blew the book out of his grandmother's startled hand. He had never lost his temper before, had never expressed his resentment and anger before. His eyes widened in shock, tears still dripping down his face, and then he ran out of the room, down the hall and into his bedroom. He slammed the door behind him, and threw himself into his bed, crying in helpless anger. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't be what she wanted, and he missed his parents as much as his grandmother missed her son. He also felt guilty for yelling at her and causing the bottle to explode. He buried his head under the pillow, and didn't see or hear his grandmother enter the room.

He felt the bed compress as she sat down next to him, however, and felt the hand she rested gently on his shoulder. Her voice sounded scratchy and quiet when she spoke. "I know… that I'm not the best at expressing my feelings, Neville. I've never been as affectionate with you as I should be; I'm just not any good with it. You remind me so much of Frank that it's hard to separate you in my mind, and when you don't behave as he would, it throws me off even more. I'm sorry, Neville, for everything." Her voice caught, and he heard her draw a shaky breath. "We'll get you fitted for your own wand when you get your Hogwarts letter. You'll get better results with a wand more suited to you."

Neville listened with growing amazement, and when he felt her begin to rise, he sat up quickly and hugged her tightly. "I love you grandma." He barely got the words out in a whisper, feeling like they were forbidden in a house that seemed to be in perpetual mourning, but knowing that he meant them all the same.

She didn't respond with words, but wrapped her arms around him and clung tightly for a moment, and Neville knew that she loved him too.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N. Actually getting to some plot development here!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Let me know what you think of this one if you have the time, it's very much appreciated.

Chapter 12

September 2nd found Arya, Remus, and Sirius in Diagon Alley, making their way toward Flourish and Blotts book store. Sirius had insisted on waiting until the rush of last minute Hogwarts students had started term, so that they would draw less attention in the popular shopping alley. Arya had ordered several books on magical lineage, and the shop had owled them last week to say that they had come in. She had also managed to read her way through all the books they had bought on their first trip to Diagon Alley, and she was looking forward to picking out more.

Remus was going to accompany her to the book store, because Sirius was there for an alternative reason; ever since Sirius's trial, Rita Skeeter had been in an excited frenzy of reporting, most of it centered on Sirius, Arya, Peter Pettigrew, and she had even dragged Remus into it. Aside from being cornered by her after Peter's trail, Sirius had avoided her and refused every request of being interviewed that he had received. She had been bold enough (or crazy enough) to request an interview with Arya as well and when he had rejected her every attempt, she had turned nasty. Her articles these days were full of awful insinuations about how Arya's living with two bachelors was unsuitable for a young child, and the most recent article had depicted Sirius as having brain damage from such a long exposure to dementors, as well as insinuating that he and Remus were actually lovers. She had been careful to portray Arya as the victim of unfortunate events and by doing so had avoided the masses turning against her; the Girl Who Lived was too popular to insult in the papers without alienating Skeeters' readers.

Sirius was aware of the damage that bad press could inflict, and had decided to put a stop to it. His plan had two stages, the first of which was to meet with the horrid woman, which he was leaving Remus and Arya to do. He promised to meet them back at Flourish and Blotts, and continued walking down the alley as the two of them veered into the book shop.

Rita Skeeter was easy to spot in a crowd, with her bottle blond hair, sparkling rhinestone glasses, and acid green robes. He had arranged to meet her outside at Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, and she was seated under one of the table umbrellas, looking distastefully at her surroundings; no doubt she'd have preferred to meet in the pub. Sirius had only agreed to meet with her if she came alone, and Sirius was glad to see that she had left her obnoxious camera man behind.

He plopped himself down in the seat across from her, and started speaking before she could open her mouth to greet him. "Hello, Rita. Do you mind if I call you that?" He asked, and then continued without giving her time to answer. "I know you've just been dying to get me to talk to you, so I think I'll oblige; I'll talk and you can listen." He had removed his wand from his sleeve, and was now holding it casually on the table in front of him. He kept his voice casual and friendly, and Rita eyed his wand nervously, darting glances at the people seated around them, and walking down the alley next to them. Sirius had learned during his trouble making school days that meeting in busy, normal places and acting natural allowed someone to get away with a lot more than meeting in seedy locations and acting sketchy. Rita pulled something from her hand bag, and Sirius performed a silent expelliarmus, but instead of disarming her of a wand, he snatched an acid green quill out of the air; it was a quick quotes quill, and would have recorded everything he was saying, while putting a more sensational twist on his words. They were the hallmark of bad reporting, and he snapped it casually in half, discarding the pieces under the table. Rita Skeeter flinched visibly, and then clasped her hands in front of her on the table, as if to show that she wasn't going to try anything else at the moment.

Sirius sat back and smiled the smile that he had used to charm his female classmates back in his school days, and noted just how uncomfortable the situation was making her. She was obviously used to being the one to intimidate and control the people she was interviewing.

"If it was only me that you were belittling and insulting, maybe I'd let the whole thing go; but what you write about me effects Arya and Remus as well, and I find that unacceptable. As funny as it is to watch Remus's face as he reads the morning prophet that claims that he and I have been lovers since our school days, I can't let you go on as you have been. You strike me as the type of person who will take the first chance at gaining notoriety that presents itself, and you breathing down Arya's neck for the next decade, waiting for her to screw up so that you can turn the masses against her doesn't sound good to me. And Remus has had a hard enough time in life without you messing with it as well." Sirius leaned forward again, looking her directly in the eyes. "So here is what we're going to do about it. I will consent to giving you interviews, and in return I will have final say in what gets published – no more false insinuations and insulting slander. In return for your continued good behavior, I am willing to bribe you. Generously."

As he spoke, he saw the greed grow in her eyes. He has assumed that notoriety and greed would be the central aspects of this woman's personality, and he now saw that he was correct. Bribing her to remain silent would never have worked, she craved attention even more than she craved wealth – as it was, it would only be a matter of time before she strayed from their bargain. A day would come when she would find the temptation to slander them too great to resist, and even the loss of his money wouldn't be enough to stop her from publishing more lies about him and Arya. He could see the eventual betrayal forming behind her eyes even as they began to hash out the details of their arrangement.

He smiled to himself; she had no idea what was coming at her. She was already scheming her own betrayal, unaware that he would beat her to it by a long shot. Buying her off was only a short term solution, and Sirius hated to waste money. The second part of his plan would ensure her long term cooperation, and Sirius had no doubts about his success. With a woman as corrupt as this, there was sure to be enough dirt in her past to bury her with, and Sirius knew just how to find it.

Arya's POV

As Arya and Remus entered Flourish and Blotts, Arya took a deep breath, enjoying the particular smell that new books always seemed to carry. She made her way to the counter, where an older man was seated on a stool behind the register. He smiled down at her, and asked "What can I do for you?" in a kind voice.

She noticed his eyes flick to her forehead, and shifted uncomfortably as she replied. "I have a special order to pick up. They're under the name Arya Potter, and there should be four of them."

"Of course, of course! We're honored to have your patronage, Miss Potter." He left his stool, and rummaged around under the counter for a moment, coming up with a large stack of heavy books, which he heaved onto the counter with a grunt. "These have been prepaid for, so if you want any other books today, you can bring them up to the register. These will still be here when you're done." He smiled down at her again from over the pile of books and she nodded, smiling awkwardly, and turned to wander off among the shelves in search of interesting new titles.

Remus positioned himself by the counter, striking up a conversation with the older man as Arya flitted back and forth, and dropping off books for him to approve or disapprove of. The accepted books joined the pre-ordered ones on the counter, though he sent a few of her selections back to the shelves, deeming them too mature for her age level. When she was done, Remus paid for the large selection of books, and after she had selected one of the books on wizarding bloodlines to keep back, he sent the others to the cottage with a wave of his wand.

Arya thanked him, happily hugging the large tome to her chest and walking with it to the comfy armchairs that were arranged in one corner of the shop, interspersed with small tables where patrons could relax and read. Sirius had said that he might be away for a while, and Arya was eager to begin reading, wanting to discover what it was that Dumbledore had hinted at concerning her family line.

The day after their conversation the evening of her birthday, she had received a gift from him by owl delivery; a children's story book. The note attached had said that he hoped it would be helpful to her research into lineage, and he had recommended several books for her to order, most of which had been about magical bloodlines, though one had been about fabled magical artifacts and the families rumored to possess them. She now had them, and she was hoping desperately that they would shed light on why the greatest wizard of all time had sent her a book of fairy tales. She had lingered over the tale of the Three Brothers, making the possible connection between the story and her invisibility cloak. It seemed like a fantastical story, but this was a world of magic, and Arya wasn't willing to rule anything out; especially if Dumbledore thought it worth looking into. Arya was certain that he knew the truth of the matter, and was just as certain that he was going to make her come to her own conclusions instead of telling her.

If her cloak was the one from the story, then that would mean that the other items were real as well. Dumbledore's recommendation of lineage books was a clue – if the cloak had been handed down her father's family, then if she could trace it back far enough she might be able to find out who the three brothers had been. The books weren't just records of lineage; they were collections of essays, and speculations about old wizarding families in Britain. Arya was certain that her answers were in them somewhere; she would find out who the three brothers were thought to be, and would then trace their blood lines. She settled in one of the armchairs, folding her legs underneath her, and opening her book on inherited magical artifacts throughout wizarding history. The index showed a list of many items, and she scanned it eagerly – there were items from the founders of Hogwarts, and some said to be even older. A wand listed as the Elder Wand caught her eye, and her heart skipped a beat in excitement – that could be the one from the story. There was no mention of a cloak, but in the story, the third brother had avoided death by being unknown and hidden, it made sense that it wouldn't be well known.

Arya eagerly opened to the chapter on the elder wand, and began to read about the legend of the wand known as the Death Stick. Its violent history of passing from wizard to wizard in bloodshed and theft fit with the child's story of the elder brother who had been boastful and violent, and had ended up murdered and robbed. When she had finished that chapter, she was half convinced that her theory was correct, though there was no mention in the index of a resurrection stone. The best bit of the chapter had been a name – the name of the supposed original owner of the wand; Antioch Peverell. The book made no mention of the children's tale, or of any brothers, but Arya remembered what Dumbledore had told her of her father's cloak, his claim that it could be traced to the Peverell family. If these two items came from the same family, then she may have found the name of the Three Brothers. When she got home, the first thing she was going to do was look up Antioch Peverell's name in her new book, and see if he had two brothers, and then see if her bloodline traced back to one of them. The Elder Wand had been removed from its blood line, but if she could trace the family, she might find the owners of the resurrection stone.

She wasn't sure why Dumbledore had set her on this path, but it was exciting to try to figure it out. She felt like she was close to something major, and wanted desperately to figure out what it was. It was like a large scale scavenger hunt that went back hundreds of years, and her brain almost felt like it hurt, she was thinking so hard. She was so lost in her reverie that she didn't notice that she had company until a voice from the armchair next to her startled her into looking up.

"Isn't that book a bit large for you? Skinny as you are, it looks like it might weigh as much as you do."

Arya looked up from the book to see who her companion was, and saw a boy her own age sitting close by, with pale, pointed features, white blond hair, and a lightly sarcastic voice.

Arya arched an eyebrow at him as she replied. "I've gained a bit of weight recently, so I think I have the upper edge on it. It might have done me in a couple months ago, I suppose."

He didn't laugh, but he did smile in amusement. Arya noticed that he didn't have a book with him, so she assumed that he was waiting for someone to finish their shopping. "What is it about, anyway?" He drawled, and Arya got the impression that he was bored rather than actually curious.

She answered anyway, closing the book to allow him a glance at the cover. "Inherited Magical Artifacts, the Bloodlines of Magical Britain. It deals with artifacts that are confirmed to exist, as well as some that are more legendary than factual. It traces where they might be today, if they were passed down the family line. Lots of items were sold, lost, or stolen though."

The pale boy nodded and said, "My father is a bit of a collector of rare magical items, I know some of them were quite costly to buy. Most families are willing to sell for enough gold, though, so I can see how easy it would be to lose track of them."

Arya didn't get the impression that he was boasting of his father's wealth, just that he was so used to it that it never occurred to him to not mention the fact that his family was rich. "Anyway," He drawled. "When do you start Hogwarts? We might be in the same year at school."

"I turned eight in July, so I've got another three years before I start. You?"

"June fifth, so we will be starting together. What house are you hoping to get into? If I got sorted into Hufflepuff, I think I'd pack up and leave. Father says their all a bunch of idiots who can barely pass their tests."

Arya frowned. "I know a witch who just graduated from Hufflepuff with top marks in every NEWT. She just got a position at the ministry, so I don't think that's correct. Besides, do you think loyal and hardworking are bad traits to be?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Top marks? I suppose there's a bit more variety in that house than I'd have thought. Ravenclaw's usually get the top grades, but I don't think I'd want to be in that house either. There's only so much time one can spend in the Library." He eyed her book as he spoke, obviously wondering if that's where she would end up.

"I don't think I'd want Ravenclaw either. I don't suppose it would be bad, but they do seem to put a lot of emphasis on book learning, and not enough on the real world. Information is good, but you have to know how to apply it to life."

"Yes, exactly. Most of my family has been in Slytherin, I think that's where I'll be sorted as well. I don't think father would like it much if I went anywhere else, especially Gryffindor, Merlin forbid."

"Ambition and cunning over bravery, loyalty, or learning?" Asked Arya. "Ambition and cunning aren't bad, but sorting doesn't just have to do with what traits you have, it takes into account what traits you value the most. I read about it the other week; if sorting was just about what trait someone had, how would it ever be decided? Lots of people are learned and brave, or ambitious and loyal also. People are sorted based on their values, not just their personalities."

"Well aren't you just a well of information. Valuing ambition and cunning will get you further in life than any of the others, and being surrounded by people with the same values will give you a leg up as well" He argued.

"Yes, or a stab in the back." Arya retorted.

He grunted in slight agreement. "Yeah, or that. But being clever is part of that too; you'd learn to avoid being put down."

Arya shook her head, but didn't disagree. "It just doesn't sound like an environment I'd want to be in. But I really don't know which house I want to be in yet, I could end up anywhere. Whichever house I end up in though, I'm definitely trying out for the quidditch team as soon as possible!"

This at least seemed to be a subject they could both be enthusiastic about without disagreeing on, and they spent the next quarter hour discussing flying and teams. They were trading views on different broom models when a tall man with the same pointed features and white blond hair as the boy approached.

"Draco, it's time to go." The man's voice was silky and cold, his hair was long, and he was wearing black robes that Arya could tell were very expensive. Unlike his son, Draco, who hadn't noticed the scar on her forehead, this man's cold blue eyes flicked to her scar and then back to her face as soon as he caught sight of her.

"Ah, Miss Potter, is it?" His voice was carefully neutral, but his eyes were cold and hard. Draco did a double take, his eyes darting to her scar as well, before he stood and walked to his father's side. She nodded, but didn't rise from her chair. He'd barely said a few words to her, but she felt strongly that she didn't like the man. Something in the way he looked at her was slightly predatory, and he seemed to be measuring her up. She was very relieved to see Sirius appear from behind the man, though she was surprised when he immediately drew his wand upon seeing her company. The expression on his face when he looked at the man was frightening; it was a look of barely contained rage and hate, and his eyes darting between him and Arya made it clear that her feeling of danger in the man's presence was not mistaken. Sirius obviously wanted this man nowhere near her, and she felt her heart beat faster, confused as to what was going on.

"Malfoy." Sirius said quietly, and the man turned his back on Arya, turning to face Sirius instead.

"Ah, Mr. Black. Should have known you'd be lurking about somewhere. I suppose your lover his hiding about as well?" Arya rolled her eyes from behind him, and saw that Remus had indeed appeared as well, but from behind the bookshelves, outside of the man's line of sight. She stood as quietly as she could, and padded silently over to Remus, who positioned himself in front of her; it was not a subtle move, and Arya knew instinctively that he was shielding her, as if half expecting to be attacked. Draco had watched her go without saying anything to his father, and Arya wondered if he was as confused by all this as she was. Sirius looked relieved to see her with Remus, and away from Malfoy.

"Hiding, Malfoy? Not at all. If I recall correctly, it is you who prefers to hide. At least, several years ago you seemed to find masks to be quite in style." Sirius's tone managed to sound mocking and full of rage at the same time. "Did you know, several of your old friends in Azkaban seem very saddened by your absence? They seem to think that true loyalty would have landed you a place beside them. Your dear sister in-law in particular seemed truly put out with you, seemed to think that if your old master ever rose again, you'd find your way to an early grave by his hand for making no attempt to find him after his fall."

Arya felt the blood drain from her face. This man had been a Death Eater, if what Sirius said was true.

"Dear Bella, always was a bit insane; apparently Azkaban has completed her unhinging. Never can believe a word she says." Malfoy's voice was cold and unruffled, but Arya saw his hand twitch toward his pocket, as if longing to draw his wand. He turned to glace toward her, to find that she had moved from her chair, and was now safely behind Remus. He sneered at her, and then motioned to his son. "Come, Draco. We are done here." He swept toward the door with his son trailing behind him. Draco glanced behind him and gave her a half wave that his father didn't see, and then followed after him.

As Malfoy neared the exit, Draco looked back at her again, and Arya narrowed her eyes after his father, and concentrated as hard as she could; she had learned to move objects with her magic in the last couple of months, and her practice paid off today. A step stool just to the left of Mr. Malfoy suddenly moved half a foot to the right, and he tripped, caught his other foot on his long robes, and tumbled to the floor. Sirius, who had been left scowling after him, howled with laughter instead. Malfoy wheeled around once he was back on his feet, red faced and disheveled, but after seeing the store clerk approaching, merely swept back around and left the shop, the door slamming shut behind him.

Sirius calmed down enough to walk over to them, still chuckling to himself. "Good one, Moony."

Remus was looking down at Arya with a raised eyebrow. "Wasn't me, Padfoot. Looks like we've got ourselves a little marauder in the making over here."

Sirius stopped dead, and then looked at her in amazement. "First prank on the record is wandlessly tripping Voldemort's right hand man? I'm buying you the largest ice cream cone the Parlor makes, just for that. James would be so proud…" Arya grinned, and Sirius led the way down the Alley to the ice cream parlor, and true to his word, got her the largest ice cream she'd ever seen.

Sirius's POV

That night after Arya and Remus had gone to bed Sirius sat at the kitchen table, slowly sipping a small glass of firewhiskey and thinking. Seeing Lucius Malfoy in the book store that day, standing barely two yards away from Arya, had sent a cold spike of fear into his heart. Lucius may have bought his way ought of Azkaban, but Sirius knew that he had been part of Voldemort's inner circle during the war; he had been involved in numerous fights against the Order and the Ministry. He was a cold blooded killer, and seeing him standing there next to Arya had awoken memories of the war; of bodies and gruesome wounds, of waiting tensely every night, half expecting bad news with each breaking day.

The last few months had been like a dream of peace that he was only now beginning to wake up from. Dumbledore remained convinced that Voldemort was not dead, and that he would find a way to regain his powers in time, be it a few years, or a few decades from now. According to Remus, a large number of Death Eaters had escaped justice by pleading that they had been bewitched or threatened by Voldemort; if Voldemort ever regained his powers, those who had escaped justice would be the first ones to stand by his side once again. The dark creatures would align themselves once more by his side, the Giants, feral werewolves, Dementors and possibly the Goblins as well would turn against the Ministry. With the Death Eaters who walked free by his side, Voldemort would turn the Dementors to his side with promises of prey, and his most loyal followers would be free to serve him again.

As Sirius sat quietly in Remus's peaceful cottage, he could imagine it with perfect clarity, the return of fear, and distrust and death; and in the middle of it all, Arya. Voldemort would target her as surely as he had the first time. The names of the free Death Eaters floated through his mind; Malfoy, Goyle, Crabb, Nott, Karkaroff, McNair, Avery, and others. He had read the old issues of the Daily Prophet from the time after the first war had ended, and every one of those men had been charged, but avoided sentencing by selling out their fellow Death Eaters, or by claiming that they had been under the Imperious curse. Sirius knew better than to believe them, as the ministry had. Many had kept their identities hidden behind their masks, spreading the distrust that was so rampant during that time even further, but the Order had obtained information through spies and inside sources, and Sirius knew the truth of their guilt.

Today had been a reminder, and Sirius felt determination grow in his heart – he would not let things become as they had been. Wizarding society seemed to want to forget that the war had ever happened; people were still too afraid, and most were unwilling to admit the possibility of Voldemort's return. Voldemort was waiting, biding his time until he found a way to come back, and instead of preparing, everyone was pretending like it never happened, and that it never would again. Sirius was sure that Dumbledore had his own schemes in action, but he had shown again and again that he would not take power at the ministry. He had been offered the position of Minister of Magic several times, but had turned them all down flat. Sirius thought that Dumbledore was too afraid of himself to allow himself to hold that much power. But something needed to be done about the Ministry; Fudge was an incompetent fool, and if he was in power when the dark lord rose again, it would pave the way to the defeat of the light.

Sirius fetched a quill and parchment, and began to draft a letter to Dumbledore, proposing a different plan of action. Dumbledore would never take the position himself, but perhaps he could be convinced to throw his support behind someone else. Sirius had a vast amount of wealth, and it was about time he used it to gain influence at the ministry to counteract what Lucius had been doing for years. Lucius no doubt wanted Fudge to remain Minister, because he was an easy puppet to manipulate, and so Sirius was determined to put someone else in his place. He rather thought that Amelia Bones would do an admirable job of it, and between Sirius's wealth, Dumbledore's influence, and Amelia's own competence, within a few years Britain could have a much more stable leadership in place.

With his letter done, Sirius sent it off with his owl, and sat back in satisfaction. He would not be satisfied with waiting for the worst to happen, unlike the rest of the world, he would begin preparing now.

He didn't relax for long, as he had several other things to set in motion this night. He had been putting off dealing with his family's London home, and the elf he had inherited when his mother died, but now he had need of Kreacher. He cast a charm to muffle the noise that was about to take place from reaching down the hall, and then said "Kreacher." In a quiet voice, half hoping that nothing would happen. He hoped in vain, and there was immediately a loud crack as the house elf appeared in front of him, the Fidelious charm having no effect on his brand of magic.

The elf was small and old, with tufts of white hair sticking from his ears, and he was wearing an old rag-like loin cloth, and bowing in a subservient posture. Sirius felt his lip curl in distaste; throughout his childhood, Kreacher had worshiped his horrible mother, and aided her in harassing and verbally abusing Sirius. Kreacher had hated him because the mistress he had adored had hated him, and he had followed her example in all things. He was a reminder of a life that Sirius had hated, standing now in the middle of a life that he loved. Sirius swallowed the bad taste in his mouth that seeing Kreacher brought on, as the elf looked up and spoke in a croaking, frog-like voice.

"Master Sirius has summoned Kreacher? I am here to serve Master. Oh how shamed my mistress would be, if she could see poor Kreacher now… Master was always such a disappointment to mistress, such a let-down for the family…" The elf spoke the last part as if to himself, though his mutterings were perfectly audible to Sirius. He suspected that the elf's old age, combined with his solitary life of the last few years had turned him slightly mad.

Sirius decided to ignore the elf's insulting mutterings, and get down to business. "I have a mission for you, Kreacher, if you're up to it." He meant to insinuate that he thought Kreacher was insane, but the elf didn't seem to know the difference between mocking and sincerity anymore, and cast Sirius a surprised look before answering.

"I'm sure I could manage as well as ever, Master."

That was more of a civil response than Sirius had been expecting, and he made a split-second decision to try showing the pitiful thing kindness, instead of the disgust and resentment that he actually felt. It was hard not to hate something that had treated him so badly as a child, while simultaneously hero worshiping his brother and mother. Sirius cleared his throat, changing his intended tactic.

"Right, good. Thank you, Kreacher." The elf looked up at him with wide, incredulous eyes, and Sirius continued. "There is a woman named Rita Skeeter, she's a reporter for the Daily Prophet. She has been shaming the house of Black with slander and lies, and is now extorting money to buy her silence. I want you to tail her, and dig into her past. Find out everything you can about her, especially anything illegal that I can use against her. You aren't to communicate this to anyone, except Remus, myself, or Dumbledore."

"This woman has been insulting the name of Black?" Creature's eyes were narrowed with hate; apparently he was only okay with insulting Sirius himself, and anyone else wasn't allowed to besmirch his name.

"She has been. You, as the servant of the house of Black, could aid greatly in bringing her to justice." Sirius felt like a fool for putting it like that, as if he gave a rat's arse about the name of 'The House of Black', but he had guessed correctly that Kreacher would eat it up. There was a slightly manic look in the elf's eyes as he replied.

"Kreacher will find everything there is to know about this woman, Master. Kreacher will not let her insult your House!"

"Excellent, thank you." Sirius had to choke the words out. This sorry, weak looking elf had played a large role in how awful Sirius's childhood had been, and it was hard to remember that the elf had been largely influenced by his mother. Some elves had their own opinions that differed from the beliefs of their families, but Kreacher had adopted the beliefs of his mistress entirely, and Sirius could only hope that now that he was the only Black left alive, that Kreacher could adapt to a different set of beliefs. He was skeptical, but he would have to try.

"I would also like you to clean yourself up, and find a cleaner towel to wear; I need you to appear presentable. You represent the Black family name, after all. Report to me when you have found something usable, and I will find more tasks for you to perform." Kreacher drew himself up straighter, and then bowed to Sirius again before disappearing with another loud crack.

Sirius sat back with a sigh, and took another sip of whiskey. After Kreacher was done with the Skeeter woman, Sirius had a whole list of free Death Eaters for him to look into, though he knew some of the old families would have their own elves, which would present difficulties. He was going to find every law that those people were breaking, and use it to send them to prison for as long as possible. He had little doubt that there would be something illegal that they were hiding; career criminals and killers such as them would not have stopped when Voldemort fell, they would have just become far more discreet. Even if they didn't stay in prison long, they would fall from their positions of power; Malfoy would lose his influence at the ministry, and the others would no doubt lose their jobs and reputations. When Voldemort returned, he would return to find that his base of power in the wizarding world had fallen into disgrace.

Most wizarding families used their elves as little more than kitchen slaves, either because they mistakenly believed that the elf's magic was inferior to their own, or because they feared letting them gain too much information or power. Elves were bound by magic to serve their wizarding family, but families that mistreated their elves sometimes found themselves in bad situations; elves were clever, and could find the loop holes in their orders, and a master that abused his elves would find himself betrayed by those they discounted as worthless and inconsequential. Sirius, in his anger at Kreacher for his past mistreatment, had forgotten the stories he had been told about elves that manipulated the fates of their masters. Perhaps kindness was in fact the correct method of dealing with Kreacher, for unlike most wizards, Sirius did not plan on having Kreacher do house work. He would use him instead for bringing down his enemies, for Kreacher could get into places that he could not, and as an elf, he would be dismissed and overlooked; in short, he was the ideal spy.

Lucius Malfoy POV

Lucius Malfoy sat in the parlor of his family mansion, sipping a fine French liquor, and considering his run in at Diagon Alley earlier that day. He tried to forget his humiliating fall, though his hands clenched white knuckled around his glass as he remembered the incident. He had thought at first that Black had done it, but the man had been too busy laughing at him, and his wand had been down at his side. Lupin had never drawn his want either, and Lucius had seen the way that he had looked down at the Potter girl. He had looked astonished and impressed, and the girl had looked very smug. Now Lucius was considering that perhaps the girl had done it, had moved the stool with wandless magic, and caused his fall.

He spoke suddenly into the silence of the parlor. "Dobby." There was a loud crack and a small elf appeared in front of him, with large green eyes and big drooping ears. He half cowered, half bowed in front of him, and Lucius sneered with disdain. He hated the elf, in his filthy pillowcase and cringing demeanor. It was expected of all the old pureblood families to keep a house elf or two, but he hated the necessity of having a non-human creature in his house. As much as he disliked it, the thought of not having one was worse – ownership of an elf was a sign of prestige. Lucius could, of course afford regular servants to do the house work, but an elf was free, and much more efficient. As much as he despised the weak thing, it did have its uses.

The elf didn't speak; it simply continued to kneel by his feet, waiting for orders. "Go fetch my son. I wish to speak with him." The elf disappeared with another loud crack, and a few moments later, his son Draco entered the room.

"Yes father?" He was dressed in his silk pajamas and robe, and stood in front of Lucius, straight backed unlike the elf had been.

"Sit, Draco." He sat in an armchair across from his father, looking curious. "I want to discuss the Potter girl, who you somehow failed to identify." Lucius glared at the boy, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Tell me your impression of her. Was she intelligent? What book was she reading?"

Draco looked a bit confused, and seemed to be trying to figure out what Lucius would like to hear, but Lucius kept his face neutral. "She was reading about inherited magical artifacts through the bloodlines of magical Britain. She seemed intelligent enough, we talked about Hogwarts houses a bit, she didn't seem totally opposed to being sorted into Slytherin. We mostly talked about quidditch and flying."

Lucius nodded thoughtfully, sitting back in his chair. "Did you see Black cast the hex as we were leaving?"

Draco shook his head. "He didn't raise his wand, and neither did the other man. Arya… looked like she was concentrating really hard, and then looked a bit smug. But she doesn't even own a wand, so…" Lucius raised his eyebrows, and Draco trailed off. "But kids can't control their magic, can they?"

"The Dark Lord could use wandless magic, and he had control over his abilities since he was a child. He always told us that our magic was from our blood, not any external source, and that we were just too weak to use it as he did. This girl… if she has mastered one trick, she may have more…" Lucius stopped talking abruptly, realizing that he was talking more to himself than his son, and that Draco was too young to be confided in. He dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and his son stood and walked from the room immediately.

He took another sip of his drink, and sat back to contemplate Draco's words. The girl had some control of her magic already, at the age of eight. No one knew how she had defeated the Dark Lord as an infant; no one knew what power she possessed. It was possible that there had been circumstances that he was unaware of, that she had survived not from any magic or power of her own, but from the luck of the situation. There was too much that he didn't know, and all he could do now was wait and watch the girl as she aged to see if there were more signs of her ability. It could be that she would rise in power over the next decade, and Lucius didn't want to end up on the wrong side. If she had power, it would become apparent over the years, and Lucius would act accordingly.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N**. Here's a little mini chapter for your enjoyment! Remus and Tonks are two of my favorite side characters in the books, and I didn't feel like the last few chapters had done them justice. I thought they could use a bit more attention, so here they are.

Chapter 13

The month of October was winding to its end and the sun was hanging low in the sky over London as Nymphadora Tonks stumbled over the threshold of her newly rented flat, located several streets over from the Ministry of Magic. She had been training to be an Auror since early August, and now her cheeks were ruby red from the chill autumn wind and her short bright pink hair was sticking up in all directions as she took off the knit hat that Bill's mum had made her for Christmas the year before. She kicked the door shut behind her, and took off her mittens, chafing her hands together for warmth as she made her way to the kitchen to stare into her sadly depleted fridge.

She had signed the lease for the flat at the end of August, after she had made enough money to afford the down payment, and had moved in by September first, eager to have her own place for the first time in her life. As she stood in front of her empty fridge, however, she started to question her decision. It wasn't that as if she couldn't cook, or that she wasn't making enough money to provide for herself; it was just that she was so bloody tired. Training was rigorous, and hers even more so than most of the other Aurors in training; the others hadn't been assigned to Mad Eye Moody.

The first three days of training at the Ministry were dedicated to aptitude tests, and had been watched closely by all the senior Aurors in the department. After those three days were over, each Auror in training was chosen by one of the senior Aurors for personal on the job training for the last two days of each week. There were far more senior Aurors than there were Aurors in training, and many senior Aurors didn't end up choosing anyone to teach. One unfortunate student hadn't been picked by anyone; he had been a Ravenclaw who had tested very well in school, but hadn't been any good in actual combat situations; he had been dismissed from the program. Tonks had felt pity for him before, but now she felt a bit of envy.

Everyone knew that the legendary 'Mad Eye' Moody never took on anyone to train. He hadn't picked anyone since before the war, though he always came to watch the tryouts. Tonks had been bloody determined to do well, and she had succeeded, outperforming all the others. Unlike the others, being an Auror wasn't just a job opportunity, it was her dream since she had been a little girl, and she had been preparing for it as long as she remembered; she used her morphing abilities and spell work in perfect unison throughout the physically and mentally exhausting courses. She knew that her indiscriminant use of her ability wouldn't win her any friends among the others training with her, but she had decided long ago that she wouldn't ever hold herself back to make others more comfortable; those who hated her for it were not the people she would want for friends in the first place.

The angry and resentful looks she received as she had surpassed the others had no effect on her determination; she barely spared them any attention, because she had fully expected to receive them. What she hadn't expected was to have Alastor Moody come stomping up to her at the end of the third day, before they had even lined up to be chosen by the senior Aurors.

"You're with me, Girl." He had grunted in his hoarse voice, and that had been that. She had followed him to Auror headquarters in a half daze, wondering if someone had hit her with a brain scrambling jinx during the last melee of the day.

Several months later, and her awe had been sufficiently stamped out of her. Her fellows had been jealous of her ability and talent, and had been jealous of her prestigious mentor; until they had seen her private training in action. Their jealousy had turned to relief within a few weeks, and Tonks's awe and pride had been replaced with a constant sense of apprehension and fear. The others were trained by their mentors for two days a week, as was custom. Tonks had no such luck; she never knew when Moody would appear, shouting at her to remain constantly vigilant and already on the attack.

She had been ambushed coming home from work, while out doing her shopping, while visiting friends, and on the first night in her flat. She had finished unpacking that first day, and had fallen into bed exhausted, only to be woken a few hours later by the sound of Moody apparating directly into her apartment. Thankfully she had passed out with her clothes on, and her wand was still in her sleeve. What had commenced was a heated battle through her entire flat, effectively trashing the entire place that she had just arranged to her liking. It had ended when Moody had finally knocked her unconscious by a simple combination of spell work and muggle brawling; meaning that she had focused on defending herself from his spell work, and had failed to stop him from bashing her on the head with one of her favorite tea mugs.

This midnight attack had been meant to teach her not to feel safe anywhere, and it had been very effective; Tonks rather thought that she was well on her way to becoming as paranoid as Moody was. He had revived her, and promptly assisted her with the proper warding techniques to guard her flat from unwanted visitors. He also recommended that she not connect her fireplace to the floo network either, but she had ignored his advice and done so the next day; she had also added layers of spells on the surrounding area in her flat that would alert her to someone coming through, and if activated, would hold the intruder in place. She was certain that he'd come through that way sooner or later to teach her another lesson, and she was looking forward to getting one over on him.

She had added different wards to her flat as well, knowing Moody well enough to know that he wouldn't approve of anyone knowing her defenses (including himself), and figuring out that his helping her to set up the wards was another test. He could have broken through the ones he had helped her do, because he knew exactly what they were; she had spent the rest of the night putting up others to prevent him from another midnight attack. She had been beginning to think that she was being too paranoid, but a few days later, he had congratulated her on her thinking. Apparently there was no such thing as 'too paranoid' in his book.

Tonks sighed and shut the fridge door, realizing that nothing edible was going to suddenly appear, and that the cold air from inside wasn't exactly helping her to warm up. She opened the kitchen pantry, and stared into its mostly empty depths. Even if she felt up to cooking, which she didn't, she lacked the ingredients to make anything remotely tasty. She closed the pantry door and walked back into her sitting room, flopping down onto her couch with a sigh. She wished for a moment that Bill hadn't gone off to Egypt; having a friend in the Weasley house meant access to Mrs. Weasley's cooking. Bill hadn't written to her since he had been away, and she felt sad that their long friendship might very well be over. Perhaps he would find a woman in Egypt, and get over her enough that they could be friends again.

She groaned and stuffed a pillow over her face. She knew that her bad mood was caused by tiredness and hunger, but she was too tired and hungry to be reasonable. Why had Bill had to go and bloody fall in love with her? Why had she gone and bloody turned him down? She had liked him for ages, and then she had just lost any interest in him romantically. Maybe she was just fickle.

Her stomach growled, and she felt like screaming into her pillow. She could just go to her parent's house and raid their fridge, but the thought of the smug look on her mother's face stopped her. Andromeda had been very frank in her disbelief that Tonks could handle both the Auror training and independent living, and Tonks was too damn stubborn to admit defeat. The fact that Andromeda had been right didn't enter into it, she was not going to crawl back to her mummy after making it this far on her own, no matter how tempting the thought of her cooking was.

Suddenly she sat up straight, sending the pillow flying. She tumbled off the couch, landing on all fours on the floor and crawling over to the floo. She stood up to throw in the powder and stepped into the flames, shouted "Remus's Cottage", and disappeared into the spinning green flames.

Remus's POV

Arya and Sirius were outside practicing flying over the cottage fields, bundled up against the cold autumn air, and Remus was happy that he had a bit more sense than either of them. He was toasty warm in a new sweater, and was looking forward to a quiet evening. He was going to make a large mug of hot cocoa and stretch out on the couch with a good book, and take advantage of the peace and quiet in the cottage. He loved living with Sirius and Arya, but the constant company did make him treasure his rare time alone.

He had just settled onto the couch, opened his book, and raised his cup to his lips when there was a flash of green flames from the fireplace. He lowered his cup and watched with mild astonishment as Dora stumbled out of the grate, attempted to catch herself on the kitchen table, and tripped over a kitchen chair instead. She went down with a mighty crash and landed out of his sight behind the table, and Remus frowned in concern when she didn't immediately spring back up again. He was used to her clumsy floo entrances, but she fell so often that she was very proficient at leaping to her feet again in record time.

This time she didn't surface above the table, and Remus set down his book and hot chocolate, got to his feet, and walked over to where she had fallen. She was lying on her back on the ground, but her eyes were open and she didn't look like she was hurt. She rolled her eyes to look up at him, and he raised an eyebrow at her in question.

"Wotcher, Remus. Got any food?"

It was amazing how she managed to look so damn cute and so incredibly pathetic at the same time. Her bright pink hair was short today, and sticking up all over the place, and her heart shaped face was pink cheeked from the cold. She was looking at him with a very hopeful expression, and he dismissed his plans of spending a quiet evening alone, with only a little regret.

"We've got a ton of left overs in the fridge, you're welcome to them if you want."

She apparently did want them, because she let out a moan that made him blush a bit, and flipped onto her stomach before crawling all the way to the fridge. She opened the door and began to pull out containers of food, making a stack of them on the floor next to her. Remus shook his head, and used his wand to float them onto the counter, where he took charge of putting together a large plate for her. She leaned back against the closed fridge, and rested her head back, closing her eyes and sighing tiredly. She had been kept so busy with Auror training during the week, that he'd only seen her every other weekend or so for the last few months. She looked tired; despite her morphing abilities, she had large purple bags under her eyes, and it was strange to see her without her usual brimming energy.

He set the plate of now steaming food on the table, and walked back over to her, to find that she had fallen asleep in the one minute it had taken him to get the plate prepared. He shook his head and kneeled down in front of her before gently shaking her by the shoulders.

"Dora, wake up." She opened bleary eyes to look at him. "Come on, get up. Your plate's at the table." He helped her to her feet, and she leaned on him a bit as he walked her to the table, gently depositing her in a chair. She felt good against his side, and he was thankful that she was too tired and distracted by the food to notice him blush again. She went from barely awake enough to walk, to eating everything in front of her with gusto in under five seconds flat.

Remus fetched his hot chocolate and sat in the chair across from her, not even attempting conversation as she ate. He didn't have to wait long, however, because she was done within eight minutes. She sat back with a satisfied sigh, and let out a large belch.

"Better?" He asked with amusement.

"So much better, thank you. I thought I was going to starve to death for sure. Fighting off a crazy old Auror all week I can manage, but cooking all my own meals? Apparently not." She pushed the plate out of the way, and rested her arms and head on the table top. Her voice was muffled when she spoke again. "Don't you dare tell my mum though; she'll start sending me care packages of food with sweet passive aggressive notes telling me that I can move back in any time I want to…"

Remus grinned. "You prefer starving to death better than admitting defeat?"

Dora raised her head off her arms by a few inches in order to glare at him. "Infinitely better. Besides, I wouldn't actually have a chance to die from starvation; I'd just get weak from lack of food, and then Mad Eye would accidently kill me in one of his surprise attacks." She flopped her head back down on her arms, and Remus took pity on her grouchy mood and decided to stop teasing her.

He took another sip of his chocolate, and when he looked up again, Dora was snoring softly into her arms. He shook his head in disbelief, and rounded the table, gently shifting her until he could pick her up, and carried her over to the couch. He set her down and then lifted her head slightly to put a pillow under it, and covered her with a warm blanket before fetching his drink and sitting back down on his end of the couch. The top of her head was touching his leg, and as he opened his book to the chapter where he had left off, she rolled onto her side in her sleep, reached an arm up, and looped a cold hand snuggly into the crook of his arm.

Remus smiled and tugged the blanket up over her shoulders again from where it had shifted as she rolled over, and tucked a stray lock of pink hair behind her ear, before settling into his quiet evening of reading, hot cocoa, and Nymphadora Tonks.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N. **Thank you for all the reviews, I appreciate them a lot, and enjoy reading them all since they let me know the people who are reading this story a little bit. It's a little connection to actual people, and it is very cool.

**I've started a DeviantArt account, and am posting chapters there as well, but most importantly, my sister's awesome artwork that she has done for this story is being posted. Want a visual of Arya Potter? Go to the DeviantArt art website, my user name is Kirstenlholt over there, and the pictures will be posted as I get them. Go check it out!**

Enjoy!

Chapter 14

October 31st

Arya awoke with a start Halloween morning as a crack of thunder sounded outside her window. She sat up in bed with a gasp as a streak of lightning lit up the sky, and heavy drops of rain began to pound against the glass windows. She had been having a bad dream, and she could feel her heart racing. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to remember her nightmare; she recalled flashes of bright green light, a woman screaming, and a man's high pitched laughter. She didn't think that she'd had the dream before, but for some reason it felt familiar.

It was very early in the morning, and though it was hard to tell through the rain, Arya thought that it must be just after dawn. The details of the dream were fading fast, but she was left with a feeling of sadness, and she thought her heart was racing too fast to go back to sleep. She sighed and felt around on the floor for her slippers, before quietly opening her door and padding out to the kitchen. Remus and Sirius were still asleep, and she could see Tonks's pink hair poking out from under a blanket on the couch. Tonks had been asleep on the couch since Arya and Sirius had come inside yesterday evening, and as far as she knew, she'd been there ever since. It was Saturday today, so Remus had said to just let her stay and sleep.

Tonks's soft snoring continued as Arya poured herself some cereal, but Mr. Kitty woke up, and abandoned his resting place on top of Tonks to rest in Arya's lap instead as she sat down to eat. She sat facing the glass doors to the back garden, and watched the rain come down in the growing light. There was a fantastic bolt of lightning, and a resounding crack immediately afterward. Arya was looking outside, but she saw Tonks flail and fall off the couch with a loud thump from the corner of her eye. Arya turned to look properly as Tonks emerged from the tangled blanket, holding her wand out defensively and looking around frantically, as if expecting to be attacked. It seemed to take her a moment to realize where she was, and that the likelihood of being jumped was minimal.

She lowered her wand. "Wotcher Arya." she yawned, moving forward to join her in the kitchen, dragging the whole blanket off the couch after her. She made a bowl of cereal and a cup of tea for herself and joined her at the table, wrapping the blanket snuggly around her shoulders against the chill in the early morning air.

"That kitten of yours sure gets friendly at three in the morning; kept rubbing on my face and purring like mad." She glared at the cat on Arya's lap for a moment, and it started purring loudly.

Arya giggled. "He does that a lot. Sirius makes sure his door latches so he doesn't come in and wake him up. He accidentally locked him in with him one night, and was too tired to let him out again until morning. He and the cat were both pretty tired and grumpy the next day."

Tonks barked a laugh that sounded a bit like Sirius's, and they chatted for a bit while the storm rumbled and flashed outside. Remus joined them after a while, and Sirius eventually dragged himself out of bed as well, tousle haired and yawning.

"It's too early to be up. It's practically still dark out!" He complained, slumping into an empty seat at the table.

"I'm not sure it's going to get any brighter today, with that storm still going out there." Tonks said, setting a steaming cup of tea in front of Sirius. "Drink your caffeine and cheer up, yeah?"

Sirius made a non-committal grunt into his tea cup, and Tonks shook her head. "You're welcome, sunshine." She turned away from Sirius, who needed at least half an hour in the morning before he could be civil, and spoke to Remus instead.

"Sorry for coming over un-announced yesterday and eating all your food, and then crashing on your couch. I've been too busy to cook this last week, and Moody has taken to ambushing me every chance he gets. The wards I put up on my flat are pretty good, but I'm not a hundred percent sure that he won't break through them eventually. This place seemed like a safe option, seeing as Dumbledore hasn't disclosed the location to him..." She trailed off, and her face paled. "He hasn't told him, has he?"

Remus chuckled. "No, so far it's just you and Hagrid on the guest list."

"Aww, doesn't that just make me feel special. And much safer."

"Well you're welcome to the couch whenever you need it." Remus said, and smiled at her. "And the pantry, if you end up starving again. I'd hate for Alastor to kill you when you're weak from hunger."

"You're talking like it's not a legitimate concern! I swear I'm really not exaggerating by much. He didn't get his nickname for no reason, you know." She waved her spoon at him for emphasis as she spoke. "But I may take you up on your offer. What are you all up to today, anyway?"

"Not much at all, actually. Weather's too awful for anything outside, and since it's a Saturday, Arya and I don't have any studies planned for school work. Looks like a good day for relaxing with a book. Albus might stop by after the Hogwarts feast, but that will be later in the night."

Remus and Arya were happy with the prospect of reading all day, but Sirius sighed morosely into his tea cup before looking up at Tonks hopefully. "Want to stick around and keep me company?" He asked. "These two become bumps on a log during rainy days around here; it's dreadfully dull."

Tonks laughed. "Sure, why not. Want to make a Halloween feast of our own? We can take over the kitchen and let these two bookworms read in peace."

Sirius perked up. "Oooh, can we make pumpkin pie?"

"Sure, no reason not to. How about you give me a moment to pop back to my flat to shower and change clothes, then you and I can come up with a menu and hit the grocery store? If Mad Eye attacks us, we'll have the advantage of numbers."

"Ha! Your real motive comes out!" Sirius exclaimed. "But it sounds like a good plan anyway. He wouldn't attack us in a muggle grocery store, would he?"

"He did before." Tonks replied. "The Obliviators were called out and everything, it was a mess. Anyway, I'll be back in just a moment, start thinking about our menu." She waved at them and made her way to the grate, remembering at the last moment to deposit the blanket back onto the couch instead of taking it with her through the floo.

Sirius, looking much happier than he had a few moments ago, summoned a quill and piece of parchment, and began making a list of ingredients they'd need to buy. Arya and Remus crowded around, adding their own suggestions; it wasn't long before the list had gotten truly out of hand, and Arya suspected that the word 'feast' was actually going to be the correct term for their meal.

It was over half an hour later when Tonks tripped out of the grate, and Remus managed to catch her before she careened into the kitchen table. Arya wondered what state the kitchen was going to be in by the end of the day, and if they were going to end up carting someone off to St. Mungos.

Tonks had changed clothes for the day, but she looked terribly flustered about something as Remus set her upright again.

"You okay?" Remus asked. "You look shook up."

Tonks sunk down into the nearest chair, her face pale. When she spoke her voice sounded oddly monotone, as if she was in shock about something. "He was stuck in my floo… I didn't have the alarms set because I wasn't planning on being away from home… He said he'd been stuck there since two in the morning. He's going to fail me."

"Slow down," Said Remus, "Who was stuck in your floo? Why did you have it rigged?"

"Mad Eye. He said I shouldn't connect to the floo network because it was too big a risk, but I did anyway. Since I knew he'd figure out that I'd done it anyway, and I knew he'd come through and ambush me to prove his point, I placed spells for anyone who wasn't me coming through. I would've disabled them when I invited people over… But I never came home last night, and he'd been stuck there for hours and hours… He's going to flunk me, I just know it." She looked horrified.

Remus looked bemused, but patted her on the back comfortingly. "I'm sure he won't fail you; this is Alastor we're talking about, he's probably impressed with you."

"He just stood there after I let the spells drop. Just stood there looking at me with this blank expression, and then turned around and left. I should leave the country now. Or hole up in here and hope Dumbledore never gives him the address. I'm so dead."

It was Sirius who started laughing first, though it wasn't his usual bark of a laugh; it sounded much more choked than usual, as if he was try valiantly to hold it back, but failed miserably. Within a couple seconds he was howling with mirth, and Tonks was looking at him with a very offended expression. Remus tried to physically stifle his laughter behind his hand, but Sirius had fallen out of his chair and was rolling on the kitchen floor having an absolute fit of laughter, and Remus couldn't hold it in for long. He gave up trying to cover his mouth, and joined in with Sirius's hilarity.

Tonks looked betrayed. "Not you too? This isn't funny; I'm going to be in so much trouble!" Remus only laughed louder, and Tonks couldn't help but join in. Unlike the two men, her laughter had a hint of hysteria in it, and when she rested her head on her arms over the table, Arya wasn't certain if she was crying or laughing. It looked like a bit of both.

Arya just grinned and fetched the camera; she got in a few good shots before everyone calmed down, and Tonks managed to stop distressing herself over the situation. As the adults set about getting the kitchen and grocery list ready, Arya curled up on the couch with the cat and one of the muggle novels she had taken with her from the Dursley's. The Hobbit had been one of the first books she had sneaked off the selves to read, and reading it again felt like spending quality time with an old friend. When she had lived with her aunt and uncle, her hidden books had been her only friends, and she still loved them even though she had real human friends now.

She had spent a lot of time with Ginny and Ron over the last few months, and Neville had joined them often as well. Neville was still relatively shy and quiet, but he had opened up a lot since their shared birthday party in July. He had confided to them that his Gran had agreed to get him his own wand before starting school, and that he'd had an accidental burst of magic as well. Instead of being angry, his gran had apparently been very pleased to see the display of magic. Ron was teaching them to play chess, though Neville and Arya were not very good at all, and Ginny had zero interest in it. Arya thought that she wouldn't be so bad at it if Ron was better at explaining the rules, and if the chess pieces weren't so distracting.

She smiled as she thought about her friends, and opened the book to the first chapter, settling down into the cushions as the storm raged on outside the windows. Mr. Kitty purred on her lap, Remus placed a cup of hot cocoa next to her, and Arya smiled wider, thinking about how much better the book was when she wasn't crammed into the cupboard under the stairs to read it.

Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore's POV

Albus Dumbledore had not visited Remus's cottage since Arya Potter's birthday, and as the Hogwarts feast went on around him, his thoughts were bent toward the girl on which so much depended. He had been very impressed with her, though she frightened him as well; he feared for her future in a world that could corrupt so easily. She reminded him greatly of himself at her age, but her kindness gave him hope that she would choose her path better than he had in his youth.

He often thought that the mark of a great mind was a state of constant worry, and people generally acknowledged that he had the greatest mind of the age.

He had given her the clues that would lead her to the Deathly Hollows, and he dearly hoped that such a young exposure to the legendary items would de-mystify them as much as possible. When he had been a young man, the ideas of the powerful items from the legend of the Three Brothers had caught his imagination and fed his longing for power and freedom. He was gambling on the combination of her kind nature and her innocence working against the lust for power such items could ignite. The basis for the theories of the Deathly Hollows was a children's story, and Arya, though very smart, was still a child. The moral of the story warned against boastful power and impossible longing for the unattainable – the very things most who sought them desired. Adults were past the point where they paid attention to moralizing children's tales, and it was their loss. Albus felt that the wisdom of children's tales deserved more merit from adults who had long forgotten their bedtime stories.

Albus would visit Remus's cottage after the Hogwarts feast, and he was sure it was going to be an interesting night. He and Sirius had corresponded about Sirius's plans regarding the ministry and the remaining Death Eaters. Dumbledore had never outright acted to influence the ministry to fit his desires, nor had he acted against the Death Eaters since they had ceased their illegal activities after the war. He feared himself too much to do otherwise; he feared overstepping the limits he had placed on himself. The temptation was always with him; he had carried the knowledge of his own weakness with him since his sister's death so many years ago. When Sirius had confided his plans to him, Albus had felt a bit of his burden lift – Sirius would act where Albus had refused to do so.

It was getting on in the evening by the time the ghosts had finished their formation gliding, and the last crumbs of dessert had disappeared from the plates. Albus stood and said a few words to the students, and watched as the four houses swarmed out of the great hall in the directions of their separate dormitories. He nodded his goodnight to Minerva, and didn't miss Severus's look of disdain; Albus suspected that the man's sentiment would change once he actually met Arya. Severus was hell bent on hating James Potter's child, but would instead come face to face with the spitting image of Lily Evans. Albus smiled as he headed for his office; he didn't think that Severus's hate, strong as it was, would hold up well against Arya's open hearted kindness. Only time would tell, however, and there was no predicting whether Snape's guilt and anger would cloud his vision where the child was concerned.

Fawkes let out a trilling note as he entered his office, and he gave the phoenix a gentle pat on the head. Fawkes was a very affectionate creature, and had been his companion and friend for many years.

When Dumbledore arrived at the cottage through the floo, he found Arya, Sirius, Remus, and Tonks sitting around the kitchen table, which was buried under a veritable mountain of food. The kitchen looked like a disaster area, but the smells were delicious, and no one looked hurt; unless one counted over eating as being harmful to one's health. Everyone was sitting back in their chairs, and he could hear someone moaning, but couldn't tell who it was coming from.

Sirius stood up with some difficulty, and came over to greet him. "Albus, I'm glad you made it. I don't suppose you'd like some food? Dora and I went a little overboard preparing meals today."

"Alas, I have stuffed myself at the Hogwarts feast, though I dare say that it looks like your meal would have made the house elves proud."

Remus stood and began magically clearing the table, and Tonks made as if to help but he waved her off. "You've done most of the cooking all day, I don't mind clearing up. I'm also going to send you off with a lot of left overs, they may even last you until next weekend." He smiled at her, and Dumbledore tried not to show surprise; he wondered how long it would take for those two to realize their own feelings.

"Nymphadora, Alastor tells me you are excelling greatly in your training. I told him when you were accepted into the program that I thought you would do well, I'm glad to see that I was correct."

The young woman blushed and grimaced at the same time, and Remus snorted quietly. Sirius grinned as well.

"She and Mad Eye had a bit of a situation this morning, Albus. Apparently our paranoid, war hardened veteran got caught in her floo trap sometime last night, and wasn't discovered until later this morning." Sirius said, and Albus chuckled at the mental image.

"Oh dear, that will be a hit to the man's pride, no doubt. Don't look so distraught, my dear, I'm sure he won't hold it against you. I'll not be surprised if he is secretly proud of his student; your prowess reflects well on him, after all."

She looked a little reassured by his words as Remus handed her a large stack of food containers for her to take home with her. She tripped on the edge of the sitting room rug, and Remus quickly caught her and set her on her feet again. He took the food back from her and suggested that he accompany her to her flat instead.

She grinned sheepishly at him, "That might be for the best, thanks. I swear I'm only a damsel in distress when it comes to keeping my balance while walking across flat surfaces." She waved a cheerful goodbye to the room, and disappeared through the floo, followed closely by Remus.

Arya had been sitting on the far side of the table, but she stood up and came toward Dumbledore after Remus and Tonks left. He was touched by her exuberance as she came forward and grabbed his hand.

"Come see what I've been working on! I've been waiting for you come over again so that I could show you. I think I figured it out."

She led him off to her room, and as they entered Dumbledore saw that one of the walls had been converted into a large blackboard, on which the girl had mapped out an extensive diagram – one that started with the three Peverell brothers, and branched outward into a family tree.

"Those books you recommended were really helpful; some of these connections are based on claims from families that haven't been verified officially. I was able to backtrack through their history and disqualify most of the fake claims. The only brother that I can't find a decedent of is Antioch; there's one account that claims that he did have children, but I haven't been able to trace his line at all. Of the three of them, it probably matters the least though, assuming that the Elder wand is also the Death Stick- then it hasn't stayed in the family line at all; it's been stolen far too often."

"Assuming that my cloak is the one from the story, I was able to trace Ignotus's family line down quite a ways, and then trace my dad's family backward to find the connection. I think it was my dad's great grandmother on his father's side of the family. The Peverell name had already died out, but I think her family connected through her mother's side."

She indicated the side of the diagram she was talking about, and Dumbledore stroked his beard as he studied it. She was indeed correct; he had made the same deductions after James had told him of the cloak. He felt his wand press against his arm, from where he kept it in his sleeve; the one item she hadn't been able to trace was feet away from her, but Dumbledore hadn't disclosed his ownership of it to anyone, and now was not the time to start. He and Gellert had traced every claim of ownership, and after they had split their paths, his once friend had succeeded in stealing it. Even the Elder wand had not been able to help Gellert when Dumbledore had finally worked up the courage to confront him. Dumbledore pushed his recollections from his mind; they were too painful to linger on for long, and Arya deserved his undivided attention.

"Are you okay, professor?"

She had noticed his sadness in his silence, and he smiled down at her over his half-moon glasses.

"Quite alright, child. Merely recollecting my own studies on these matters, and a different time. You are of course correct in your deductions, the cloak is the one from the story, and your family tree looks remarkably accurate. I do find it unlikely that the origins of these items came from death itself, but rather that the story sprang into being in the wake of such powerful inventions."

Arya nodded seriously, and turned back to her blackboard. "Cadmus was the middle brother, and it seems as if he did have children as well, even though he died young. His was the easiest family line to trace, because Salizaar Slytherin bragged on several occasions about being descended from his line, and all of Slytherin's descendants bragged of being connected to Salizaar. The hardest part was weeding out the false claims, but one of those books did most of that for me. The last known relatives of Slytherin were the Gaunts; they were purebloods, but were very poor and I think they must have been inbred as well. They didn't seem to think that anyone was worthy of them except their own cousins."

She made a face, and Dumbledore chuckled at her expression. "You are correct, Arya. The Gaunts were a very proud family, and they fell hard in a world that was moving away from pureblood prestige. They did not adapt very well, and the last of them dead recently in Azkaban."

"Not the last of them, I don't think; last of the name perhaps, but Voldemort bragged about being Slytherin's heir, according to several accounts. No one ever really verified it, because everyone was terrified of him. But Sirius said that his name was originally Tom Marvolo Riddle, and Marvolo was a Gaunt Family name. I couldn't find any wizarding line with the name Riddle, so I think his father must have been muggleborn or a muggle, and his mother a Gaunt. There are no records of the bloodline past Morfin and Merope Gaunt, so I assume she had a child out of wedlock at some point? Anyway, if the resurrection stone was passed down the family, it would belong to Voldemort now, though I can't see how he would have gotten it if he grew up in an orphanage like Sirius said he did."

"Ah, very good, Arya. Voldemort is the son of Merope Gaunt and a muggle named Tom Riddle; I will not tell you the specifics tonight, but Tom was left at an orphanage as a newborn with no knowledge of his family history. He became fascinated with his heritage during his years at Hogwarts, and like you, he traced his middle name to the Gaunts. I believe that he did indeed come to possess the stone, though I do not believe that he ever knew its origin. Growing up in a muggle orphanage, he never knew the story of the Three Brothers, and took the stone for its significance as a relic of Slytherin's instead of the Peverell's who he had never bothered to research.

In the years since his demise, I have studied and collected memories of him, hoping to glean useful knowledge, and though I did not notice at the time, in my recollections I now see a golden ring set with a black stone that he began to wear while still in school. He did not wear it for long after he re-emerged as Lord Voldemort, and what he did with it I do not know. I do not believe that he ever discovered its true purpose, however."

Arya looked thoughtful for a moment before she spoke again. "Do you think that that's why both Voldemort and I can speak to snakes? Since we have a common ancestor?"

"It is a possibility, though it is not my theory. I believe that when Voldemort's curse rebounded when it hit you, there was a transfer of sorts between Voldemort and yourself. I believe that you absorbed some of his abilities; you must understand that this is a type of magic that is not documented or researched – it is uncharted territory."

There was another small pause, and then Arya asked the question that Dumbledore had expected. "How did I survive, professor? I was just a baby; it doesn't make sense that it was anything special about me that did it."

"I have a theory about that as well. It was not you alone – it was your mother's sacrifice. As far as I've been able to ascertain, your mother need not have died; according to my source she was supposed to have been spared (do not ask me, I will not tell you why. It is not my secret to tell.) But she refused to step away. I believe she offered herself in your place, and her selfless love provided a protection beyond Voldemort's ability to understand, since he has never experienced or understood love. There are some types of magic that go beyond common understanding, and the power of love is one of them."

"I would not say, however, that you are not special. You have the protection of your mother's sacrifice and some of Voldemort's own power as well. Your mind is all your own, and I would say that you have an exceptional one." He indicated her research wall with one hand.

She didn't look happy at his pronouncement of her talents, and Dumbledore recalled Tom Riddle's feverish delight at learning that he was a wizard; she did not delight in unique powers or abilities, and he took that as a very good sign.

"Sirius wrote that you have used your magic intentionally? I hear the Lucius Malfoy found himself to be unusually clumsy a few weeks ago." He smiled to show that he was not angry, and saw her relax a bit as the conversation changed to a lighter topic.

She grinned slightly. "I can make objects move if I concentrate hard enough, and I got a shirt to change color the other day. Sirius said it's not usually possible to do intentional wandless magic?"

"It is very unusual, but certainly, as you have found out, it is possible. Children almost always have accidental outbursts, but some learn a rudimentary control over it before they get a wand and begin training. Tom Riddle had some control over his powers before he was of age to begin school, though unlike you he used his powers to control, punish, and cause pain to others. Your mother also had a few tricks before she learned of the wizarding world; I believe she was able to slow her falls, and cause objects to move intentionally as well."

He figured that he should give her some parallels to people other than Voldemort.

"I have brought you something that I found very useful when at Hogwarts, and often wished that I had made use of before my school days."

He pulled out a book from within his robes and handed it to her. "It is a book to help you learn Latin; the language almost all of our spells originated from. Learning it will be difficult, but I always felt that knowing the root language of our magic was important to understanding it better. It will make things easier when you have to memorize spells, and will also serve to keep you occupied for the long winter ahead of us."

Arya accepted the book happily, said thanks, then promptly crossed the room and sank into an armchair, cracking the book open to the first pages. Dumbledore smiled and took his leave of her room, content that she was as intelligent as he had hoped, and not obsessed with the hallows. She had treated them as a puzzle, and now that she had figured it out, she was content to let the matter rest.

When Dumbledore entered the combined sitting room and kitchen area, Sirius had cleared away the mess, and Remus had still not returned from Tonks's flat.

"Your goddaughter is a very special young girl, Sirius. I'm glad every day that you're free and taking care of her now."

"As am I, Albus. She's something else, isn't she?" He looked as proud as any parent Dumbledore had ever seen.

"She is indeed." Sirius took down two glasses and a bottle of mead, and they settled comfortably at the table. "How have your efforts with the Ms. Skeeter been going? I've noticed that her name has not appeared in the press recently."

Sirius smiled very smugly. "Kreacher has turned out to be a wonderful asset; he has a positively frightening talent for finding out everything about someone that they'd rather keep hidden. Rita Skeeter will be keeping her opinions and her quill to herself until I decide otherwise."

Sirius sat back in his chair, looking very gratified. "He's currently at work going down a list of ministry employs suspected of accepting bribes. Once I have all the evidence I need, I plan to bring Fudges administration crashing down."

Dumbledore smiled and raised his eyebrows at him. "I take it you plan on waiting until an opportune moment?"

"You are correct. It won't do any good unless someone competent is poised to take over. I figure Amelia Bones could use another few years as head of department to build up influence and experience. I've started making contacts as well, though I don't plan on entering the ministry myself." He took a long swig of mead, and continued. "I do have some ambitions regarding the Daily Prophet, however. That business has really taken a dive since ownership changed while I was away; they've become lapdogs for the ministry."

"A dually ambitious plan, my friend." Dumbledore said, surveying Sirius from across the table.

"Do you disapprove, Albus? It feels wrong to wait, while you remain convinced that Voldemort will return in the future."

"I do not disapprove, Sirius. I will aid you where I am able; my influence at the ministry is not inconsequential. I have another suggestion as well – one of the school governors will be retiring at the end of term, and Lucius Malfoy plans to make a bid for the position. Everyone seems to be too afraid of him to run opposition, and it seems likely that he'll be a shoe in for the spot."

Dumbledore saw comprehension dawn on Sirius's face. "I never considered that, but it would be good for Lucius to have a little competition. It just isn't healthy for a man to get his way too often, now isn't it?" His grin was rather predatory, and Dumbledore raised his glass in salute.

Tonks's POV

Late in the evening on Halloween night, after Remus had departed back to the cottage after sitting with her, chatting over a glass of wine, Tonks was slightly tipsy and already breaking in to the leftovers that Remus had brought her. They had each had two glasses of wine as the evening wore on, and Tonks was a lightweight drinker, so she was feeling pleasantly silly by the time he had left through the floo. She selected a random container from the fridge, and flounced back to her table after grabbing a fork from the draw.

She had been having a very good day, and she was glad that Remus had decided to stay for a bit after she had left the cottage. Her job kept her so busy that she was having trouble keeping up her friendships from Hogwarts, and since Bill had left for Egypt (truthfully a little sooner than that), she had been a bit lonely at times. She and Bill had been close friends, and she missed their conversations and easy companionship. She wished that he hadn't developed a romantic interest in her so that they could have maintained their friendship, though she supposed he'd have still gone off to Egypt in that scenario. Spending time with Remus more than made up for the loss though, and she smiled happily as she dug into the container, not noticing at first what she was eating.

She had sometimes felt a bit beyond her years, and making friends at Hogwarts had been a bit difficult at times; until she had befriended Bill in her third year, she had been lacking stimulating conversation amongst her peer group. They were plenty interesting, but depth of intellect and similar interests had often been lacking. Though Bill was plenty smart, they had definitely been heading in different directions lately anyway. Remus was different, and they never seemed to lack for things to talk about. She knew things that he didn't, but he was actually interested in learning, and had plenty of knowledge to contribute on other topics that she was less familiar with. He was a decade older than her, but she felt much more on a level with him than she did with most people her own age. He and Sirius had become her good friends, and she adored Arya. The three of them seemed to genuinely like her as well, and she felt pleased that things had turned out so well between them.

She made an involuntary noise of appreciation as she ate, and actually took notice of the food she was scarfing down. She looked down into the container, and saw that it was the potatoes mixed with the seasoned vegetables she and Sirius had made at some point during their cooking frenzy. She paused for a moment, looking at the medley of food, and felt an odd tightness in her chest. They had made two separate dishes, but she had mixed them together on her plate before eating them. It was a combination she really liked, but she knew most people wouldn't care for the mixture. Remus must have noticed and mixed the two of them when he was packing up the food for her to take home.

It was such a small thing that she wasn't sure why it was making her feel a bit emotional, and she was tempted to blame the wine. She couldn't quite shove the little ball of emotion down though, and she didn't want to be the type of person who ignored what their feelings were trying to tell them.

She decided that it was making her feel weird because it was such a small thing, just a little something about her that Remus had noticed, and then took the consideration to do for her. And for some reason, his small gesture felt like it meant something much larger.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N. **Here's a another little teaser chapter for you! And a cliff hanger, too. Don't hate me, please.

Let my know what you think in a review if you have the time (or the inclination)!

**If you'd like to see pictures of Arya, go to the DevianArt website. My user name is Kirstenlholt over there, and my sister's amazing artwork is posted there! **

Chapter 15

Regulus A. Black

December 10th

Sirius Orion Black hated the winter, but loved the winter holidays. Winter weather was awful; he had spent over six years freezing his arse off in Azkaban, and he figured that was more than enough coldness to exempt him from winter for the rest of his life. On the other hand, he enjoyed the holidays immensely.

Christmas with his family as a child had been an unpleasant ordeal, but when he had started spending the holidays with his friends instead, the contrast had made them even more freeing and fun. In addition, he knew that Arya had never had a proper Christmas at the Dursley's, and he was determined to go all out this year. That still left 14 days of plan old December to endure, and while it was a vast improvement over prison, Sirius was still tiring of it rather fast.

He consoled himself that at least he was able to get outside, and he and Arya frequently ventured out into the snowy landscape around the cottage. He didn't seem to mind the cold as much when he was Padfoot, so the sight of a small redheaded girl and a big black dog romping through the snow was a common feature at the cottage. Remus came out with them sometimes, but often he would get as far as the door, feel the bitterly cold wind against his face and retreat back to his hot chocolate and books. Sirius didn't blame him, and he even went so far as to join him and Arya in their practice of sitting inside with books and cocoa for long stretches of time.

There was a wood-burning stove in the sitting area which Remus kept going at all hours, and it added a light scent of smokiness too their winter days. Sirius had to admit that cold days spent by a cozy fire with a good book and a warm drink had a definite appeal, and he had read several of Arya's books, which had turned out to be very interesting reads. He had never read much about foreign wizarding cultures, and he realized that it was a very large gap in his magical education.

He had finished her book on wizarding artifacts earlier that afternoon, and as he looked around at Remus and Arya, he quickly realized that neither of them would be surfacing from their books anytime soon. He sighed, feeling restless, and got up to stock the fire again for the third time in the last hour. He loved a good book, but he lacked the ability to sit still read for hours on end like the other two seemed to be able to. He fiddled with the fire for a bit, before Remus told him off for smoking up the cabin by keeping the door to the wood-burning stove open for too long. Sirius sighed again and closed the door before walking over to the kitchen, and opening the fridge, before remembering that he'd had lunch just an hour ago. He sighed again and crossed his arms petulantly, but no one looked up to notice his pouting stare.

He let out a disgruntled sound, and fetched his winter coat and boots.

"Don't forget your hat and gloves. I think you almost had frostbite when you came back last time." Remus didn't even look up from his book as he spoke, and Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Yes, dear." He said sarcastically, and Arya snorted from behind her book.

Rita Skeeter was no longer publishing anything about them, but some rumors persisted from her previous articles. Neither of them was particularly bothered about that rumor, but it had become a household joke after Mrs. Weasley had made some heavy insinuations about them, hinting that she and Arthur would be willing to watch over Arya anytime they wanted some time _alone_ together. Sirius had choked on his pudding, and Remus had sprayed butterbeer across the Weasley's dining room table, and they had been obligated to set her straight on the matter. She had blushed deeply red and apologized for the misunderstanding, but everyone had laughed it off.

Sirius grabbed his hat and gloves before heading out the door into the grey December day. It was cold enough that the wind hurt his face, and the snow crunched under his boots as he walked. He strolled down the side of the country lane that the cottage was situated next to, in the general direction of the small muggle village. He didn't have much in mind except getting up and about, and as he walked he remembered the winters of his childhood, spent with his parents and brother at Grimauld Place in London. He hadn't been to his family's old house since he was sixteen years old. He owned it now, but he had put off going there for months, unwilling to face the unpleasant memories that the dank old house would bring on.

After Sirius had run away from home at sixteen he had never spoken to his parents again, and had only seen his brother Regulus at Hogwarts. After he had graduated he had joined the Order, and Regulus had joined the Death Eaters. Sirius's father had died the year after his graduation, and Sirius had not gone to the funeral. Regulus had been the next to die, though Sirius didn't know how it had come about. Information from the Order had suggested that Regulus had started to turn away from Voldemort, and Sirius suspected that it had gotten him murdered by his fellow Death Eaters. Of all of his family, Sirius only regretted Regulus's death. He wished that he had made more of an effort to shield his brother from his parents; the fact that he had started to doubt Voldemort suggested that he hadn't believed his parent's bullshit as fully as Sirius had thought he did.

Sirius's mother had died while he was in Azkaban, and Sirius had put off thinking of her just as much as he had put off going to the house. Sirius stopped walking, coming to an abrupt halt along the side of the road. Perhaps it was time to stop stalling. He looked up into the grey clouds above, and took a deep breath before spinning on the spot, disapparating with a loud crack that split the still winter air.

Muggles in the nearby village suspected nothing more than tree sap freezing and causing branches to snap in the cold.

Sirius reappeared in a side alley close to where his childhood house stood, and looked around to make sure no muggles had spotted him. It was a popular apparation point for wizards visiting this area of London because it was rarely inhabited by muggles. There was no one around, and Sirius pocketed his wand before finding his way to a main street and heading toward his old home.

He walked slowly, reluctance making his feet drag in the discolored snow of the dirty London streets. The air here still had a crisp winter feel to it, but unlike the clean air around the cottage, the street had the smell of the city; too many people crammed into too small a space. He reached the house sooner than he would have liked, and stood in front of it for a long moment, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. Number 12 Grimauld Place was crammed in between the two houses next to it, and looked both smaller and more normal than it actually was.

Sirius knew that though there were wards to keep it private, his Black blood would allow him access without having to fight through the spells placed on the premises. He approached the front door and placed his gloved hand on the handle, and immediately felt the clicks of multiple locks withdrawing. The door opened easily when he twisted the knob. The entrance hall was completely dark, and there was the unmistakable smell of dust and decay that had accumulated in the deserted house over the last few years.

Sirius took out his wand again as the door closed behind him, and used it to turn on every light in the entire house. The place was creepy enough as it was, and the darkness made it almost unbearable. In the bright light he was suddenly aware of what he was standing in front of, and he let out a startled yell, feeling his heart jump in his chest; in the large stretch of wall across from the front door there was his mother. It took him a second to realize that it was just a life sized portrait of her, and he felt a moment of relief flood through him before she started to shriek at him. He jumped again, and then pointed his wand at her and blasted the painting with as powerful a silencing charm as he could muster. She continued to shake her fists at him, but her mouth moved silently as she attempted to continue yelling. Her shouts had woken up the other family portraits, and now they were all clambering and yelling as well.

Sirius let out a groan of frustration before walking the length of the hall, casting silent stunners into ever portrait he passed. He attempted to pry them from the wall, but they had all been stuck there with permanent sticking spells.

He paused in consideration for a moment in front of his mother's portrait, appreciating just how ugly and deranged she had had become in her old age. Her fingernails were long and curling yellow with age, and her eyes looked bloodshot and insane. He thought that maybe he should feel pity, but all he felt was anger, and hurt. Mothers were supposed to love their children, not neglect and abuse them.

Sirius was glad that he had come alone, because he felt angry tears begin to spill down his face. He could practically read the hateful, mocking words she was saying to him on her lips. He saw the familiar sneering disgust on her face, and something inside him snapped.

He raised his wand and cast darkest spell he knew at the portrait. Fiend's Fire was not something he was supposed to know how to cast. It was not an unforgivable curse, but it was very illegal. He did not put as much strength into the spell as his rage demanded, but the stream of twisting and churning flames that shot from his wand was enough to utterly destroy his mother's portrait. He saw the comprehension grow in her eyes as the flames began to lick at the canvas, and saw her shriek in fear and pain as the demon fire engulfed her. And then she was entirely consumed.

Sirius reigned in his forbidden spell with great difficulty, forcing the shifting shapes of the demons back into his wand with a supreme effort of will. Fiend's Fire wanted to be free; it wanted to escape and destroy, to burn everything it could reach. He should never have used it – should never have even known how. But he had grown up in a family full of dark magic, and though he had rejected their teachings and principles, he had learned things that respectable families would never consider teaching their children.

When the last of the flames were gone, Sirius sank to his knees in front of the burned and blackened hole in the wall. His tears were not the quiet kind that he had shed in front of James' and Lily's graves, but the raw and guttural kind that he knew he could not control. He let out a scream of anguished rage that he had repressed since he had finally had enough of his family at the age of sixteen, and fell back against the wall next to the burned patch, weeping into his hands.

He cried for the anger and hurt his family had inflicted on him when they should have loved him instead, and he cried because he did mourn them, even though he knew in his heart that they didn't deserve it.

He didn't know how much time elapsed before his grief had run its course, but he eventually felt calmness and clarity of mind return. Using that spell had been the dumbest thing he'd done in a very long time, but he did feel as if he had gone through some catharsis. He eventually stood up again, wiping his wet face on the sleeve of his jacket, and considering the damage he had done.

Fiend's Fire destroyed things beyond even magical repair, and there would be no point trying to fix the hole he had made in the wall. He instead vanished the whole section, and conjured a new one to immediately take its place. He smiled at the new idea, and walked the length of the hall again, murmuring spells as he changed the dimensions of the hallway to make it wider, and them simply conjuring another wall in front of the existing ones. It was an effective method of completely hiding ever single family portrait without resorting to dark magic, and it felt satisfying without the guilt of illegal spell-work to burden him.

The walls were a nice clean white, and made the hallway much less gloomy and foreboding. He vanished the troll leg umbrella stand, and grimaced in disgust at the house elf heads mounted along the stairwell. He almost vanished those as well, but thought that Kreacher might be distressed if he did. He removed them instead, and directed them with his wand to his mother's old room, which he didn't intend to visit that day. He cleaned as he went, removing years' worth of dust and grime, and ended up outside of his brother's old room.

He paused outside the door, and lowered his wand. Regulus had forbidden him entry to his room when they were teenagers, but when they had been boys they had been closer. When he entered he saw that the room was undisturbed, as if his mother had kept it as a shrine to her dead son. There were newspaper clippings about Voldemort and the Death Eaters lying around. Apparently he had taken an early interest in them.

Sirius sat on the bed, causing a cloud of dust to puff into the air. He had picked up an old photograph of his brother surrounded by the Slytherin quidditch team. He looked so young, just a child still. What chance had he ever really had? Raised to hate muggles and muggleborns, sorted into Slytherin where he was surrounded by Voldemort's supporters, recruited young to the ranks of the Death Eaters… Sirius had escaped that life, but he was a statistical anomaly.

He sat there for a long moment before standing and putting the photograph into his pocket. He vanished the dust before he left, but otherwise kept the room as it had been. He made his way to the drawing room, cleaning as he went. He got rid of the dust before he even entered, thankful that he didn't have any asthma; what had Kreacher been _doing_ for the last couple of years?

Sirius knew that the elf had been living here, but there was very little evidence of it. He could understand going crazy in a place like this, totally alone for years on end. The thought gave him pause – the elf hadn't been totally alone. He'd probably been kept company by the portraits. Sirius shuddered. His mother's crazy painting couldn't have done much to stop the old elf's mind from decaying, considering how insane she had been herself.

The drawing room curtains had an immense doxy infestation that Sirius didn't even attempt to deal with. He'd have to come back for them with the proper spray to knock them out. Instead of messing with the curtains, he settled on the floor in front of one of the large cabinets, and began to sort through the mess inside. Some of the more mysteries items he left where they were, as it didn't seem like it would be a good idea to handle them alone, when no one knew where he was.

He started a pile of rubbish on the floor next to him that he would throw away later, and a pile on his other side of items that might be valuable enough to send to his Gringotts vault. The family pictures he found went on the rubbish heap, but there were several pieces made of silver that were probably worth saving. Maybe he could liquidate some of them; if they were as old as they looked, they might be very lucrative.

Sirius reached into the depths of the cupboard, and pulled out an old necklace with a locket on it that looked like it was made from pure, heavy gold. He tested its weight in one hand, and raised an eyebrow. That was one hefty piece of jewelry. He paused to inspect it closer, and froze as he saw a detailed carving of a snake winding up the face of the locket, perfectly realistic in its rendering. He did a double take, taking in the size and shape of the locket, and felt his mouth fall open in shock.

He had just read an entire book about legendary magical artifacts, and this item had been described in full detail, complete with an illustration to accompany it. There was no doubting what this was, which only served to beg the question; what the ruddy hell was Slytherin's locket doing in his drawing room cabinet?

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	16. Chapter 16

**A/N.** Second installment of the mini-cliffhanger chapters! There will probably be one more similar to this before we get back to Arya and the others. Thank you for the reviews, let me know what you think of this one if you have the time!

Chapter 16

December 10th,

Number Twelve Grimauld Place, London

Sirius held Slytherin's locket in front of him, dumbfounded. His family lineage was old and pure blooded, but they had never claimed to be descendants of Slytherin, and he'd have thought they'd have bragged to everyone they met if they had come into possession of such a rare magical artifact, not stuffed it into the back corner of the drawing room cabinet.

He couldn't make sense of it. He attempted to pry it open, but it wouldn't budge. He rocked back on his heels, thinking about how to proceed. It seemed that the way forward was obvious; all of his family was dead, but his mother's old elf was very much alive.

Kreacher was currently on a mission digging into the personal life and back story of the owner of the Daily Prophet, but Sirius needed answers, and Kreacher was the only living soul who might be able to explain the lockets presence.

"Kreacher." He called into the oppressive silence of the old house, and there was immediately a loud _crack_ as the elf appeared in front of him. Since he had first summoned Kreacher several months ago, the elf had cleaned up remarkably well, and though he was still somewhat crazy, he didn't seem to be wallowing in his misery any longer. A sense of purpose had done him a world of good – elves that were neglected by their wizarding families often didn't fare well. Kreacher hadn't been released from service when Sirius's mother had died, since Sirius had still lived. He had instead been left in limbo, unable to serve, but not free to seek a new master either.

"You summoned me, Master Sirius?"

Kreacher bowed low, and for once didn't mumble insults under his breath. He seemed to be getting better about that, though it did still happen occasionally. The elf looked up after he spoke, and caught sight of the object in Sirius's hand. His expression changed from his normal look of barely concealed distaste, to a look of anger, guilt and fright. He began to twist his hands nervously in front of him, and Sirius felt his curiosity grow; there was clearly more going on here than had first appeared.

"I need you to tell me how this locket came to be here, Kreacher." He spoke firmly, but not unkindly. It was obvious from the way the elf was behaving that he was very distressed.

Kreacher opened his mouth to speak, but what came out was a moan of frustration and agony. The small elf began to rock back and forth on his heels, and wrapped his arms around himself. Tears filled his large eyes and began to spill down his face.

Sirius sat back, alarmed by the pure emotional reaction the locket was causing. "Sit down, Kreacher, and take a few moments to calm yourself. You're not in trouble – I'm not angry at you. I just need to know what's going on."

The elf nodded, sitting on the floor in front of Sirius and taking large, gasping breaths as he fought his hysteria. After a few moments, he drew his small legs up in front of him, and seemed to master himself for the moment.

"Why don't you start at the beginning, Kreacher. Tell me what happened."

Kreacher began to speak, looking down and covering his face with his hands. "It was many years ago that I first saw the locket, Master Sirius. Master Regulus came to Kreacher and told him that the Dark Lord had need of an elf, and that I was to go to him, and serve him as I would Master Regulus."

Kreacher looked up, and though he was calmer, great fat tears continued to drip from his eyes. "I did as I was ordered. Kreacher went to the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord took Kreacher with him to a dark cave on the cliff side by the sea, across a vast lake underground. There was a basin filled with an evil potion, and the Dark Lord ordered Kreacher to drink it, and Kreacher did. It caused a living nightmare… all my worst moments come again to haunt me." Kreacher shuddered, and began to rock himself back and forth again.

"The Dark Lord pulled out the locket and put it in the basin, and refilled the potion, and left Kreacher in the middle of the lake, with the water and the corpses. He laughed as he left Kreacher there."

Kreacher sniffled wetly, and Sirius conjured him a handkerchief, listening in awe to the elf's tale. Kreacher blew his nose wetly, and then continued in a shaky voice.

"Kreacher made it back to Master Regulus, and recovered from the potion in time. Master Regulus was very concerned when Kreacher told him what had happened, very concerned. He told Kreacher to stay inside, out of sight, and to not tell anyone what had happened. It was a few weeks later before Master Regulus brought it up again – he ordered Kreacher to take him to the island, and he gave Kreacher a golden locket, and ordered Kreacher to feed him all the potion, to switch the lockets, and then to return to Grimauld Place, and to destroy the original locket."

Kreacher wept harder, rocking faster back and forth. "Kreacher did as he was ordered, Master Sirius! Kreacher fed Master Regulus the awful potion, and switched the lockets, and returned home as the bodies dragged Master Regulus away, under the water. Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to leave, so Kreacher left. But Kreacher cannot destroy the locket! Kreacher has tried and tried! It will not open, and it will not break. Kreacher punishes himself for failing orders, but Kreacher cannot destroy it." He let out a loud wail of grief, and tipped over onto the floor, pounding the carpet as he flailed and cried.

Sirius sat stunned on the drawing room floor, watching the poor elf writhe in his own misery. He had not ever expected to learn what had happened to his brother. He felt his heart clench with his own grief renewed by Kreacher's awful tale, imaging a dark lake filled with inferius, dragging his little brother to his death. He wanted to say something to comfort Kreacher, but his throat felt constricted, and he settled for patting him on the back in an awkward manner. He hadn't gotten over his distaste of the elf, but it was impossible not to pity him in his current state of distress.

Kreacher did eventually settle down from his fit, and Sirius found his voice again as the elf sat up once more.

"Thank you for telling me, Kreacher. As your current Master, I release you from your orders to destroy the locket."

Kreacher's shoulders slumped in relief, and Sirius wondered how much of a strain his constant failure had been causing him for the last 8 years.

"I promise that I'll do my best to destroy it myself, after I figure out why it was so important to Voldemort, and why Regulus was willing to die to get it."

He studied the locket in his hand; it was a prized artifact because of its history, but he had never heard of it having any particular magical power.

"I need one more thing from you, Kreacher. Do you think you could give me your memories of the events you just told me about? They might help me understand."

Kreacher sniffled and nodded his head before closing his eyes and putting his finger tips to his temple. He drew his hand away, and a trail of silvery memory stretched like a rope connecting his fingers to his head. Sirius conjured a bottle, and Kreacher deposited his strand of memories into it when he opened his eyes.

"Why don't you take a break tonight, Kreacher. You've been working hard for months, and I'm sure the Daily Prophet can wait awhile longer." Kreacher nodded his head gratefully, and Sirius had a sudden inspiration. He took the photo of Regulus out of his pocket and handed it over to the elf.

"Why don't you keep this? I'm sure he'd want you to have something of his."

Kreacher took the photo with trembling fingers, and looked down at it, tears spilling down his face once again. They sat together in silence for a few moments, before Kreacher got up and bowed to Sirius, retreating down to his den in the downstairs kitchen.

Sirius sat for a few moments longer, and then took out his wand, and sent a patroanous to Dumbledore, requesting his presence at the cottage as soon as possible. He stood with some difficulty, having gone stiff from sitting in the same position for such an extended period of time, and disapperated, reappearing moments later in front of the cottage.

Albus Dumbledore's POV

Albus was in his office when a large silvery black dog loped in through the wall of his office and came to rest in front of him. "Albus, come to the cottage as soon as you get this. I've found something you need to look into."

It was the voice of Sirius Black, as Dumbledore had known it would be when he had recognized the dog as Padfoot. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity; Sirius's voice had sounded both strained and excited, and Dumbledore was at loss as to what could have happened. Perhaps Sirius's investigations with his house elf had turned up something particularly interesting. He stood from his desk, intending to use the floo, but Fawkes let out a low cry and flew to his shoulder.

Fawkes's desire to accompany him told him that something a bit more interesting was about to happen than he had expected.

"Alright, my old friend. You lead the way." He reached a hand up to grasp the bird's long red and gold plumage, and there was an intense wave of heat as Fawkes transported them both to the sitting room of Remus Lupin's cottage.

He had assumed, since Sirius had asked him to meet him there, that Remus and Arya would have been warned of his arrival, but apparently he was mistaken. They had both been reading on the couch when he arrived, and they both jumped in surprise as he appeared in front of them.

Remus hastily bit off a swear word, and Arya grumbled a bit as she picked herself up off the floor where she had fallen. The front door opened almost immediately afterward, and Sirius entered the cabin.

"Albus! You beat me here, I see." He looked over at his disgruntled goddaughter and house mate, and barked a laugh at their expense. "Sorry you guys, I meant to get here first and tell you we're expecting company."

Dumbledore smiled, "I apologize for my promptness; I mistakenly assumed you were at home when you sent your message."

"I was paying a visit to Grimauld Place." Remus looked surprised and Arya confused, since she didn't know the name of Sirius's family home. "And I found something interesting in the drawing room cabinet." He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a large golden locket hanging from a golden chain. He held it out to Dumbledore, who took it curiously, holding it up by the chain so that locket was level with his eyes.

Dumbledore felt his heart skip a beat; this was Slytherin's locket. The last person to have it on record had died a mysterious death shortly after becoming acquainted with a young man named Tom Riddle, and her house elf had been framed for her death. Dumbledore had made it his business to track down everything he could that was associated with Voldemort, and somehow Sirius had just handed him one of the most infamous items linked to his name.

Dumbledore cupped the golden locket in the palm of his hand, and gasped softly, dropping the necklace onto the kitchen table with a clatter. The energy that it was emanating from it was enormously twisted. He rubbed his hand subconsciously on his robes, as if physically scrubbing it would somehow remove the residue of evil that he had felt against his skin. Slytherin's locket was not said to contain dark magic, but it had passed into the possession of Voldemort, and he must have done something further to it.

Dumbledore looked at Sirius, and then over to where Arya sat, looking curiously at the locket on the table. "I think Sirius, that we should take this discussion to my office, if you are agreeable."

Sirius nodded and scooped up the locket, depositing it back into his robes. Dumbledore extended his hand, and when Sirius grasped his wrist firmly Dumbledore took ahold of Fawkes's tail feathers, there was the familiar wave of heat before they were suddenly standing in his office.

"What is it, Albus? You dropped it like a venomous snake back there."

"I'm not sure yet, Sirius. There is something very wrong with it, however. It was stolen from the woman who had purchased it from Borgin and Burkes many years before, by Tom Riddle. How did it come to be at Grimauld Place? There were no rumors, no hints of it after Voldemort stole it."

Sirius reached into his robes and extracted a small bottle. "It was Kreacher, and my brother. He gave me the memories; you have a pensieve don't you?"

Dumbledore nodded, and summoned the basin of memories from inside one of the cabinets lining his office. Sirius poured in the memories in once it was resting on the desk, and both men leaned forward, falling into the worst memories of Kreacher the house elf.

Dumbledore and Sirius remained silent throughout the duration of Kreacher's memories, watching intently as a slightly younger Kreacher adventured through the events of eight years ago. Dumbledore felt as if he had finally gotten a break- through in understanding Tom Riddle; he had long wondered what method Voldemort had employed to ascertain his immortality, and though there was still much to learn, Dumbledore now had a start in the right direction. The locket would have appealed greatly to Voldemort's sense of his own importance, and it seemed certain by his efforts of protecting it that he had turned it into a Hurocrux.

Dumbledore heard Sirius's choked sob as Regulus was pulled from the island into the corpse ridden lake, his last words a shout for Kreacher to leave him, to return and save himself. Dumbledore rested his hand on Sirius's shoulder comfortingly, knowing how difficult it must be for him to watch his own brother's death. Dumbledore's own nightmares consisted of his sister's death, and he was sure that Sirius would now entertain similar dreams at night.

They watched as Kreacher attempted to destroy the locket, but he could not open it; not even his powerful brand of magic could so much as scratch the golden surface. When the memories reached their end, they were ejected from the pensieve, and returned to their seats across from each other at Dumbledore's desk. Sirius put his head down against his arms on the desk, and Dumbledore could hear his rough breathing as he attempted to calm himself.

Fawkes gave a low cry, and swooped from his perch to land on Sirius's shoulder. He laid his head against Sirius's and continued his soft singing. Dumbledore closed his eyes to listen; the song of a phoenix was incredibly healing to emotional wounds. When the final note died out, Fawkes flew back to his perch, and Sirius sat up straight in his chair, having regained his composure.

"What do you make of it, Dumbledore?" Sirius's voice was scratchy, but clear.

Dumbledore rested his arms on the desk in front of him, finger tips together as he worked out his thoughts. "May I see the locket again?" He finally asked, needing to be certain about what it was that they had found.

Sirius laid it on the desk in front of him, and Dumbledore drew his wand. He performed the nonverbal spells that would help him read the magical signature that the locket contained, and within moments he was certain; the locket contained a fragment of Voldemort's soul.

He lowered his wand and studied the man in front of him, considering how much information he wanted to divulge. His natural instinct was to keep his knowledge to himself, at the very least until he had worked through his theories and formed a plan of action. He had almost always kept his own council – it came from often being the smartest person around, but also had to do with the fact that the last person he had confided in had turned out to be one of the darkest wizards of the century.

Sirius was not an untested acquaintance that clouded his judgment with a summer romance however, and Dumbledore thought that perhaps it was time to allow himself to trust again. Sirius had had ample opportunity to turn to the dark arts in his life, and had chosen again and again to pursue goodness instead. He was not likely to break his trust, or to let information escape by accident, as Hagrid had a tendency to do.

He was also Arya's legal parent, and he deserved to have a hand in how the future would play out. Dumbledore sighed; it was time to share control of the future with the younger generation. Two minds put to the task were better than only one, even if it was his own.

"Do you know what a Horucrux is, Sirius?" He finally asked.

Sirius frowned, "I remember my father teaching me and Regulus about them once. We were tutored in subjects not taught at Hogwarts when we were home for summer holidays." His face twisted in distaste. "I remember, because even he warned against creating one. Are you telling me that Voldemort turned the locket into one? Is that why he didn't die when his curse rebounded?"

"This locket contains a piece of his soul, yes. But I am left wondering, for there were other objects of similar value that disappeared after Voldemort obtained them. The ring that he stole from the Gaunts, for instance, and the cup of Hufflepuff that he obtained at the same time as the locket… He had them, and instead of bragging and flaunting them, which would more fit his nature, he made them vanish from the world."

Sirius's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "Is it even possible to create more than one? How many times can a soul be split before it simply breaks apart?"

"I do not believe anyone has ever been crazy enough to attempt creating more than one, but theoretically, I do not see why it wouldn't be possible. Assuming that Voldemort thought along the same lines, than we must turn our minds to finding the answer to the next big question; how many did he create? The locket, certainly, and I think it is safe to say that the cup and ring met a similar fate. Four is a magically stable number, and with the fragment of soul that was in his body, and three horucruxes, he may have been aiming to stabilize the pieces in their containers."

"Then again, Voldemort has never put much emphasis on stability, so perhaps this did not concern him. He had two relics of the founders of Hogwarts, and I must wonder if he did not find relics from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and convert those as well. If he converted the ring, then it also shows that he was not opposed to creating horucruxes from other items as well, so you can appreciate the immensity of our problem, Sirius. We do not know how many he may have created, and beyond the ring and cup, we do not know the items that he may have used, and we do not know where he may have hidden them."

Sirius let out a deep breath, and sat back in his chair. "It's a start though, Dumbledore. We know more now than we did a few hours ago, at least. The ring is the same thing as the resurrection stone that Arya traced to the Gaunts?"

"Yes, I believe its true nature was long forgotten by the family that owned it, and thus Voldemort would have been ignorant of it as well. He killed his muggle relations, and framed his uncle for the crime before he even graduated from school, and I believe it was then that he took the ring as well. I didn't know the significance of the ring, so I have not put any thought into tracking it further. Indeed I intentionally put it out of my mind; do you feel the temptation as I do, Sirius? Do you wish to speak to your brother and departed friends as I dream of seeing my family again?"

Dumbledore could see that Sirius did long for the ring as much as he did; they shared a longing for forgiveness. Dumbledore felt responsible for the death of his mother and sister, just as Sirius felt responsible for the deaths of Regulus, James, and Lily.

"I want it as well Sirius, but we must not use it. Let the dead rest; it is for the living to know pain and longing, and to not disturb those who have passed on." Saying the words to Sirius helped him to reinforce on himself his convictions.

Sirius nodded. "You have an idea of where it is, don't you?" It was a question, but Sirius spoke as if he already knew the answer.

Dumbledore smiled at his quick mind. "I have long wondered about the shack that the Gaunts lived in. The home they had was the last remains of the property that Slytherin himself had owned; they were forced to sell the valley around it through the generations, as their wealth decreased. I think Voldemort would have seen it as a memento to Slytherin. If I were to look for the ring, I would go there first."

"What about that cave? What kind of significance would that location have held for him?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I do not know. I didn't recognize the location, but we may ask Kreacher to show us where it is, and then perhaps we will know how it is linked to Voldemort. To go along with our host of problems, we must add this also; how do you destroy a horucrux?"

"It has to be destroyed beyond magical repair, yes?"

"Correct. Fiendfyre, or the venom of a basilisk would perhaps be enough to demolish it. I do not believe basilisk venom is obtainable, and Fiendfyre is a dangerous endeavor to control. I also believe that we will have to open this one before it can be destroyed; Kreacher was correct to attempt to do so. I will attempt to work out how it is done, if you will leave it in my possession for the time being. As soon as I figure it out, I will inform you."

Sirius nodded his consent, and Dumbledore deposited the locket into an empty draw in his desk, casting a charm to prevent its evil emanations from leaking into the rest of the room.

Dumbledore looked back up at Sirius, and paused for only a moment before asking, "Care for a visit to the last residence of the Gaunts?"


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N. **This should be the last of the mini chapters for the time being.

Updates might be a bit thin on the ground for the next few weeks, because I'm off to visit family out of state for awhile, away from the internet! I'm hoping to get a lot of writing done while away though, so maybe I'll have a few stockpiled by the time I get back.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Hope you enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 17

Dumbledore's office.

Sirius Black's POV

Sirius didn't hesitate before agreeing to Dumbledore's suggestion that they proceed immediately to the last residence of the Gaunts to search for the ring. There was a sense of familiarity in the situation; the way Sirius felt his heart begin to pick up its pace, and felt the beginnings of adrenaline work its way through his system. The war against Voldemort that he and his friends had joined after leaving school had been a period in time that was remembered by most as the worst of their lives; Sirius felt the same way, and yet there was a part of it that he couldn't help but miss.

Sirius was built for action, and the missions and battles he had participated in for the Order had given him purpose when he had been cast adrift by his family. He dreaded a return of the old times, and yet they were all that he had known until his release from prison – he had grown up during Voldemort's rise to power, and had fought in the war that had come after it. He had made his best friends during that time, and while they had been dark days, they had also been interspersed with the best days of his life. His mission with Dumbledore was bringing back the old feelings of anticipation, he felt like a coiled spring that was about to be let loose.

Dumbledore stood and made his way around the desk, his long robes billowing out behind him. Fawkes gave a low cry, and flapped his wings from his perch, and Dumbledore gestured for Sirius to take hold of the phoenix's long red tail feathers. Most people couldn't travel so freely in and out of the school, but travel by phoenix was an exception to the wards that most people didn't have as an option.

There was a flash of heat through his veins that felt like it should have scorched him to his bones, and they were suddenly standing on a dark street, surrounded by trees. There were lights in the distance that indicated a village in the valley bellow, but where they were it was quiet, with only the light of the half moon and pale stars above them.

"Welcome to the outskirts of Little Hangleton." Dumbledore's voice was quiet, and seemed to blend into the sounds of the night, rather than cut into them. "The Gaunt family once owned the entire valley, before they squandered their wealth."

The old wizard started down the road, and Sirius followed close behind him. Fawkes flew alongside them, a moonlight reflecting off his red and gold plumage. The night was peaceful, and Sirius felt himself calming down from the sudden energy that anticipation had lent him when Dumbledore had suggested their mission. This was not a battle, there was no war. They were unlikely to meet anyone else; from what Kreacher had told him, he expected resistance in the form of hidden curses and protective enchantments; things that wouldn't be noticed unless someone was actively searching for the Horcrux. Searching out enchantments was different than facing down deatheaters and withstanding ambushes, though both were dangerous in their different ways.

Sirius thought that he was probably better suited to fighting than the more subtle art of seeking out enchantments, but he paid close attention to Dumbledore as they moved forward. The old man seemed drawn toward something, and he led the way off of the road. There was a small, over grown lane that branched off to the side, and they were forced to duck their way through the overgrowth of dead brambles and small trees in their path. A light dusting of snow crunched under their boots, and somewhere off in the night an owl hooted dolefully.

They came to a halt, and Sirius squinted into the darkness, and was able to make out a small ramshackle hut nestled into the edge of an overgrown orchard. Dumbledore indicated for him to wait, and raised his hand out in front of him, as if feeling for something in the air. Sirius closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, calming his nerves, and attempting to feel the magical vibrations in the air that he knew Dumbledore was exploring. He could feel the presence of magic in the area; magic left its imprint on the things around it, and the magic here felt old. It had been the property of a magical family for longer than Voldemort had been around, if what Dumbledore had said was true. There were layers of old, inactive spells lying over the land like a residue of dust over an abandoned house.

He felt for something deeper and darker, and found it in a layer of spells worked into the base of the hut; they were newer than the others, but still many years old, and they felt like a mix of protective magic and curses layered around a particular spot within the floor of the old decrepit hut. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Dumbledore was looking at him, smiling slightly.

"You feel the spells in the floor?" He asked, and Sirius nodded. No doubt Dumbledore had picked them apart faster than he had found them, and already knew what to do to disable them.

Dumbledore raised his wand, and Sirius watched closely as he pointed it at the shack; there were no spoken words, but Sirius felt the magic emanating from him as he began to move his wand in a complicated, repetitious gesture. For a moment nothing happened, and then the shed began to come apart; layer by layer, it began to pull itself apart, shedding rotting boards and shingles to the ground, peeling away until only the base of the structure remained.

The rotting boards on the ground began to shake, and the air rippled around them as if they were giving off extreme heat. They began to glow a sinister greenish hue, and Fawkes gave a low cry from where he was perched on a branch overhead. The light flashed and then faded away, and the boards, already weak with age, disintegrated into a heap of old splinters, which blew away in a gentle breeze from Dumbledore's wand. Sirius leaned forward, and saw a chunky looking golden ring, set with a large black stone, lying against the brick of the foundation.

Sirius looked up at Dumbledore to exclaim over their success, but the look on his old headmaster's face stopped him. Sirius had been accustomed to the older man's ever-present calm wisdom; Dumbledore was wise, powerful, and discerning in all situations in which Sirius had seen him. His presence was always a guarantee of safety and reassurance, and though Sirius knew that even the greatest wizard alive must have moments of vulnerability, it was startling to see his humanity so blatantly revealed – it was clear from the look in his eyes that Dumbledore wasn't with him anymore. His light blue eyes, always so knowing, so _present_, looked as if he was living a moment from decades ago, from a lifetime before Sirius had even been born. His eyes were fixed on the ring with an expression of such sheer desperation and longing, that Sirius felt his heart clench in pity. He felt as if he shouldn't be witnessing such a moment of vulnerability, as if he were intruding on something immensely private.

He had almost decided to turn away and give the headmaster a moment to himself, when Dumbledore began to move. His eyes were still focused solely on the ring, and his face still held the feverish excitement of desperation and grief.

Sirius lunged without giving himself time to think; they had removed the protective and concealment enchantments, but hadn't ridden the ring of the dark layers of magic that lingered on it. Part of Sirius thought that he was being stupid, because of course a great wizard like Dumbledore must have thought of that already. He probably had taken care of stripping the ring of dangerous curses, and Sirius had just been too slow to see it happen… But his gut instinct told him that Dumbledore was caught up in a dream, and that the ring was still very much a danger to them both.

"No!" He shouted, and caught Dumbledore by the back of his long robes as he lunged forward, spinning the old man around easily, and stumbling to a halt outside the edge of the hut's brickwork foundation. For an old man, Dumbledore had amazing reflexes; Sirius found the tip of a wand under his chin before he could so much as let go of his handful of robes.

Dumbledore's eyes were furious for a moment, and the tip of his wand was digging into Sirius's throat. Sirius saw the light return to his eyes – saw the madness leave him as quick as it had come. Dumbledore lowered his wand, and stepped away, before walking the short distance to a fallen tree near the hut, and sinking down onto it with a heavy sigh.

"Forgive me, Sirius. I was lost to the present." His voice was calm, but there was an edge of raw emotion in it.

Sirius joined him on the fallen tree, resting his arms on his knees and giving himself a moment for his heart beat to slow.

"Don't mention it, Albus." He finally said. "The only reason I didn't do the same is because I haven't had enough time to think about it too much. This day has gone by so fast and so much has happened, I haven't had time to dwell on the possibilities."

He let his mind drift, thinking of the power of the resurrection stone. He had lost so many people, and so much had gone unsaid. James had been a brother to him, but had he ever told him how much his friendship had meant to him? Would Lily approve of how he was taking care of Arya? Would Regulus forgive him for failing to protect him as an older brother should have?

It wasn't just the longing to be in the presence of those he had lost, it was the need to be forgiven, and the need to say the things that hadn't been said in time. Dumbledore's voice brought him back to the present.

"It has been a long time since I have given up my dream of uniting the Hollows. But seeing it there… I lost my wits." His voice was quiet, and sad. "I do not desire it now for the same reasons I wanted it in my youth, but perhaps my desire now is even stronger than it was before, though just as selfish as always. When I was young, the ring represented freedom to me, and a lifting of the family duty which tied me down – today all I desire is forgiveness for the damage my neglect did to the only family I had left."

He sighed, looking over at Sirius. "I imagined for a moment that I would see them again, and be able to tell them how truly sorry I am. But it is not for me to bring them back for my own absolution. I will see them again when I leave this world, and I must resign myself to waiting. Sometimes death feels impatient for me, Sirius."

Sirius clasped his shoulder with one hand, and they sat in silence for another moment before standing slowly, and approaching the remains of the hut once more. Dumbledore took out his wand and stood over the ring. Again there were no words, but as Sirius watched, a dark smoky substance began to boil from the surface of the ring, pooling around it in an undulating mass. It grew in size, and Sirius backed away cautiously as the cloud of swirling vapor expanded. When the last of it had oozed from the ring Fawkes gave a shrill cry, and Dumbledore jabbed his wand at it savagely. It burst into flame and within seconds the entire cloud had been burned away in a bright flash of oily fire. Dumbledore stooped down, and drew a handkerchief from the pocket of his robes, using it to pick up the ring. He stood and walked back to Sirius, and held the heavy looking ring up between them.

The black stone set in the heavy metal had an old inscription scratched onto it; a triangle with a vertical line down the middle and a circle in its center. Now that Sirius knew what to feel for, he could sense the magic within it. There were two parts to it – both layers of magic were old, but one predated the other by centuries. He was sure that their speculations about the ring had been correct; this was a Hollow, and also a Horcrux.

Sirius grinned. "Two bits of old Voldy's soul in one day… Not too bad if you ask me, Albus."

Dumbledore smiled, and carefully folded the fabric over the ring before tucking it carefully into his robes. "Not a bad start indeed, Sirius. You have made more progress possible today than I've had for years. The question of how we are to destroy them remains, however."

Sirius hesitated, remembering the two ways in which Dumbledore thought the Horcrux's could be destroyed. With the locket it had seemed less urgent, because Dumbledore seemed to think that they had to find a way to open it first, but now that they had the ring, Sirius knew he had to confess.

"Fiendfyre is dangerous, I know, but it is an option. I can do it if I have to, Albus."

Dumbledore peered at him solemnly, and Sirius felt the brush against his mind that he recognized as Dumbledore's light touch of Legilimency. He didn't try to counter it with Occlemency, but instead brought forth his recent outburst in Grimauld place. The brush on his mind lingered for only a moment, and then withdrew.

"Ah. It is an option, my friend, but not one that I would choose unless forced. The rage it takes to create that spell is not something that you should have to cultivate within yourself, and the risk of losing control is too great. I have an old friend who I believe may be able to procure such a rare substance as Basilisk venom for us, for the right amount of galleons, of course."

Sirius raised an eyebrow in curiosity; basilisk venom was very rare, and very illegal. Who did Dumbledore know who dealt in illegal rare valuables?

Dumbledore smiled at his expression. "I'm sure you remember your old potions master, Professor Horace Slughorn? As I recall, he tried for years to get you and James to join his little group during your school years. Perhaps it is time for you to let him collect you – I'm sure he'll be thrilled to begin an acquaintance with you, and he may be a very useful person to know." Dumbledore winked at him, and strode away down the lane, leaving Sirius to grimace in distaste behind him.

He did indeed remember the man, and he remembered that he hadn't liked him a bit. Horace Slughorn had been a good teacher, but he had collected sycophants the same way that a spider collected bugs. A large majority of his crowd of admirers had consisted of the sons and daughters of the high wizarding society that Sirius so despised.

He did have to give the man credit however; he hadn't been discriminant in his choices of who to collect. He had recruited Lily just as persistently as he had any pureblood that showed talent and ambition. He was known for being extremely well connected, and Sirius reluctantly had to agree with Dumbledore – getting on good terms with Horace Slughorn could be very beneficial to his ambitions regarding a change of power at that ministry, his plans to change the ownership of the Daily Prophet, and his goal of running against Lucius Malfory for the position of school governor. Apparently, destroying bits of Voldemort's soul was also on the list of things that he could help out with, and against all those benefits, Sirius's distaste for the man seemed inconsequential.

Sirius and Dumbledore parted ways on the main road, after agreeing to meet again the next week. Sirius was tasked with beginning a friendship with his old potions professor, and Dumbledore promised to dedicate his time to finding a way to open the locket. They agreed to bring Remus in on what was happening, but also agreed that telling Arya was premature. She was too young, and had never studied Occlemency – Sirius was determined to add that to her studies, so that when she was older he could confide in her without it being a security risk.

Sirius disapperated and appeared in front of the small cottage, and saw that a light was still on in the living room. When he entered he found that Remus was still up, sitting at the kitchen table, reading the evening paper and sipping a butterbeer. He looked up as Sirius entered, and set the paper down on the table.

"Arya went to sleep a half hour ago. What's going on, Sirius? Arya's convinced that locket you came home with was Slytherin's."

His tone implied that he was not convinced, and Sirius fetched himself a butterbeer and sat heavily in the chair across from him, before beginning to recount his day. It sounded absurd to his own ears, but he told it exactly as it had happened. Remus had always been a good listener, and he waited until Sirius had finished his story before bombarding him with questions.

Between his own retelling, and Remus's in depth questioning and their following discussion, it was quite late at night before they had said as much on the subject as they could for the moment. It was the early hours of the morning before they realized that they were merely repeating the same theories and questions to each other, and decided that it was time to go to sleep.

Tired as they were when they finally got up from the table, neither of them noticed the door to Arya's room inch open just wide enough for a slender young girl wearing an invisibility cloak to slip through, and then close softly again behind her.

kkkkkll


	18. Chapter 18

A/N. Wow this chapter was effed up for a bit there! Sorry about that.

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Chapter 18

December 20th

Since entering the wizarding world eight months previously, Arya often felt as if her brain was on over-drive. Her muggle school had not been particularly challenging for her, and the Dursley's had refused to let her enter an accelerated program, for fear that she would outshine Dudley, which she thought was ridiculous, seeing as she was consistently on the top of her grade, and Dudley was always consistently on the verge of failing half of his classes.

Since starting her new life, she had constantly been contending with a head so full of new information that she sometimes thought it would burst. Unlike the Dursley's, Sirius and Remus were always happy to answer her many questions, but now she was faced with a dilemma - she couldn't ask them about something that she wasn't supposed to have heard in the first place.

She had known as soon as Dumbledore had suggested that he and Sirius go to his office to discuss things further, that she wouldn't be let in on what was happening. She didn't feel good about spying, but she was just _so_ curious. She had deliberated for only a few moments before she had decided to put on her cloak and come back out to wait for Sirius's return. The cat had almost given her away by climbing into her lap; a floating cat on the chair would have been a dead giveaway had Remus looked up from his book.

She had been expecting to hear something about Slytherin's locket that she was sure she had recognized from her book's illustration, but she had heard more than she had bargained for. Sirius's story about his day had been extraordinary, and confusing; thankfully Remus had asked all the questions that night that Arya had wanted to ask, and she learned all about Dumbledore's theory that Voldemort would return (which no one had mentioned to her before) as well as all about bits of his soul that might be scattered all across the world. She had been fascinated, confused, and a bit scared; now she was feeling guilty as well.

She hadn't wanted to be left out, and she hated it when adults wouldn't tell her what was going on - she hadn't considered the possibility that her knowing so much might be a security risk. She was perfectly capable of keeping her mouth shut, so she hadn't seen it as an issue if she learned what they all thought she was too young to know. She was chagrined to learn that they may have been right; it wouldn't matter that she could keep her mouth closed, if someone reached straight into her mind and pulled the information out of her.

Now she was stuck knowing too much, and unwilling to fess up about her eavesdropping to Sirius. She kept hoping that he would bring up teaching her that mind guarding thing that he and Remus had talked about teaching her, but it had been over a week, and he had made no mention of the subject to her. The whole situation put her on edge, and it was taking the enjoyment out of the approaching holiday.

Sirius was in great spirits much of the time, decorating the cottage with an extreme amount of Christmas colored streamers, and singing carols at the top of his voice. Arya recognized the tunes, but all the words had been changed around to include magical things. Sirius had serenaded Kreacher with a chorus of God Rest Ye Marry House Elves one evening, and when Arya had asked Remus about the wizarding versions of the classic songs, Remus had informed her that they didn't actually exist. Apparently Sirius had learned the muggle versions from a muggleborn girlfriend in his fourth year, and it had become a tradition for him to change the lyrics every year.

The results of Sirius's compositions were sometimes painful to listen to, but always good for a laugh. Arya was able to forget her moral struggle during the days, and have fun with Sirius and Remus, or spending a day at the Weasley's with Ron, Ginny, and sometimes Neville. It was at night that her worries returned in full force, and she wasn't sleeping very well because of them. She kept having bad dreams about bits of Voldemort's soul coming after her, mixed with flashes of green light and high pitched laughter. She had also dreamt of Sirius finding out about her sneaking, and he had told her that she had to leave the cottage, and go back to the Dursley's.

She had just awoken from a particularly bad dream involving a dark figure that had invaded her mind and caused her give away all her secrets, and had been screaming in her dream for Sirius and Remus to run away because now people were after them. There had been a flash of green light, and Sirius had fallen, dead.

Arya had been crying as she woke up in bed, and seen that she was safe at the cottage, and that it was just after four in the morning. She wiped her eyes with a shaky hand, and threw off the covers. She crept down the hallway, and poked her head into Sirius's room; she could make out his sleeping form by the flickering illumination of Remus's constantly brewing Wolfsbane potion.

She didn't know how he would react to her spying, but she was fairly sure that he wasn't going to send her back to the Dursley's, and Arya couldn't stand another night spent restlessly awake, or restlessly asleep and plagued by nightmares. She padded across the room, and shook him gently by the shoulder.

"Sirius! Wake up."

Sirius was not at his best when he had just woken up, and it was even worse when it was at four in the morning. He woke up enough to swat her hand away, and roll over to bury his head in the pillows again.

Arya sighed. She was finally ready to confess, and he refused to wake up to listen. She grabbed him by the shoulder again, and shook a bit harder this time.

"Sirius! Wake up! I need to talk to you!"

He finally raised his head from his pillows, staring blearily at her, and making a groggy kind of noise, halfway between being words and a grunt. She thought that he was either asking her what time it was, or just expressing his general unwillingness to be awake. Whatever his intent, it didn't come out coherent, and Arya wasn't concerned with finding out at the moment.

"You need to wake up, I need to talk to you!" She repeated for the third time, and this time it seemed to penetrate his sleepy brain. She knew it was rude to wake him up this early, but she needed to act while she was still tired and brave enough to just spit it out.

"Arya?" Sirius came fully awake for the first time, and sat up in slight alarm. "What's the matter? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Well, I mean, I'm not hurt, I just..." She faltered awkwardly, and Sirius leaned over and turned on his bedside lamp.

Arya was left blinking in the sudden light, feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed. Sirius was beginning to look quite concerned as he took in her obvious distress, and she decided to head off his questions and just say exactly what was on her mind.

"I keep having bad dreams cause I feel bad because I spied on you and Remus talking about the Horcruxs's and I'm sorry, but I was just so curious and I knew you wouldn't tell me, and now someone could pull the thoughts out of my mind because I don't know how to stop them, and I'm really sorry!" She closed her mouth with a snap when she realized she was practically shouting it at him, and felt her eyes burning with tears again. She wiped at her eyes impatiently, and sniffed before continuing. "I was under the cloak in the living room because I wanted to know about the locket."

Sirius blinked at her in amazement, and she shifted her feet uncomfortably, waiting for him to say something. He scratched his head, and Arya wrung her hands nervously, though he didn't seem to be getting angry.

"You know," he finally said, "You look so much like your mother that it's hard to remember that you have a lot of James in you too. He had a complete inability to follow the rules too, you know. I was so busy getting into trouble with him that I never considered what being on the other side of it would feel like... Remus is going to tell me I'm getting what I deserve now."

Arya stayed silent, unsure of what to do now that she had gotten the words out. Her eyes were still threatening to spill over with tears, and she felt ashamed that she cried so easily. She was just so tired and stressed out about everything; being unable to talk to anyone about it for the last week had been driving her crazy.

Sirius must have noticed that she was verging on breaking into tears, because he scooted over on the bed, and patted the spot next to him, motioning her to sit down. He put an arm around her when she sat down, and she turned, burying her head into his arm. He definitily wasn't screaming and sending her back to the Dursley's, so this was already better than her awful dreams.

Sirius patted her on the back. "its okay, Arya. Well, I mean... You're grounded? Maybe? Merlin, I'm terrible at this; I've never tried to enforce good behavior in my entire life. Feels wrong somehow."

Arya chuckled through her tears at his poor attempt at reprimanding her.

"Ah, no, I can't ground you right at Christmas; it would ruin my fun, too. I'll think of something else. And you'll need to start Occlemency a lot sooner than I had planned, I don't know if I should be the one to try to teach you, either... I'm passable at it, but not proficient."

Sirius broke off as he yawned, and then continued. "Why don't we talk about it more in the morning? And I suppose we'll have to tell Dumbledore, too. Ooooh, I know what your punishment can be - I'll make you come to Slughorn's party with me... I was going to spare you, but if you want to be involved so badly, I'll put you to use..."

He trailed off and yawned again, flopping back down onto the bed - within seconds he was snoring again, and Arya looked up from where her head had been buried in the pillows to stare at him incredulously. He was going to punish her by taking her to a party? He really did have some funny ideas about enforcing rules. She reached over and turned off the light, and within a few moments had fallen asleep where she was, lying on top of the covers next to a snoring Sirius.

Arya awoke later in the morning, well rested for the first time since she had eavesdropped on Remus and Sirius the week before. Sirius had tucked her in, and left the room without waking her up, and she rolled over instead of getting up right away, feeling as if an enormous weight had been lifted from her mind.

When she had lived with her aunt and uncle, sneaking and spying had never felt like bad things to her - they treated her so poorly that she had never felt any inclination to treat them well either. Here it was different - Sirius and Remus had made her their family. Sneaking a cookie behind their backs was one thing, but her eavesdropping had felt like a betrayal, and had weighed her down like a sack of rocks tied to her feet. She smiled and hugged her pillow closer; she had told him, and he didn't think she was an awful person for it. He had been her parent's best friend, and her fear of disappointing him had felt worse than the knowledge of Voldemort's eventual return.

Now that she had confessed, and was secure in her knowledge of his acceptance, she supposed she should give more consideration to the fact that a murderous super wizard was going to return and try to take over the world. Sirius and Remus had seemed to think that he would attempt to hunt her down and kill her the moment he returned, and as bad as she felt about spying, she dearly wished that one of them had mentioned _why _a the most powerful dark wizard of the age held such an interest in ending her life. None of the books she had read proposed any decent theories, and she believed that most of the wizarding population was probably as clueless on the subject as she was. But she just knew that Dumbledore, and likely Sirius and Remus as well, were in on the secret, and she rather thought that she ought to know as well, seeing as it concerned her quite a bit.

And right there was her defining struggle, - she wanted to know _everything, _but couldn't stomach the thought of sneaking around to find out. As bad as she had felt about what she had done though, she wasn't entirely sure that if the opportunity came up, she'd be able to resist doing it all over again. Hopefully Sirius could teach her to protect her mind, and then she wouldn't have to worry so much about being a liability.

Her kitten didn't let her sleep in much longer, jumping onto the bed with her and pouncing on her head, attempting to play with the long strands of her hair. She laughed and grabbed him, and made her way to the kitchen cradling him to her chest as he purred.

Both Sirius and Remus were at the kitchen table already, and she deposited the kitten in Sirius's lap before helping herself to breakfast.

"So I hear that you'll be helping Sirius with a mission tonight, Arya. Something about punishment for successfully spying on two Order members for top secret information?"

Remus grinned at her when she choked on her porridge. "Oh yes, he told me all about it. I can't believe we let that happen, considering the amount of times James pulled that one on us. Already sent a letter off to Dumbledore - I shudder to think of the look he's going to give us when he finds out we couldn't keep a secret for even a day."

"Well it's not like either of us have done this whole parenting thing before." Sirius said defensively through a large bite of food. Remus grimaced at him in response.

Sirius swallowed his food before turning to Arya and continuing. "I've decided that instead of being grounded, I'm enlisting you for a mission Dumbledore set for me. You and I are going on a quest to sucker up to an old professor of mine. I was going to leave you out of it, but since you couldn't help but involve yourself, might as well make use of you."

Arya nodded excitedly, thrilled that she could be involved in something. "Why are we schmoozing up to your old professor?"

"Dumbledore thinks he'll be useful. Has all sorts of connections with the higher ups in society; taught most of them at Hogwarts, lent a helping hand to a lot of people, makes sure they all know that they owe him one. He's made sure his life stays very comfortable."

Arya could tell by the way his face twisted while he talked that he didn't like the man at all.

"He collected everyone at school who he thought showed potential, and formed his own little club of admirers. I must have gotten a hundred invites, but I never went. Your mother did though, and I actually think Slughorn genuinely liked her. That's why you're going to come in handy; he'll latch onto you like a mother dragon on a clutch of eggs. Since you want to be oh so involved, you can practice your schmoozing."

Even his less than flattering description of the man couldn't deter Arya's enthusiasm. Sirius described a fat man who resembled a walrus, and talked at length about how tedious and boring high society functions were, but Arya refused to be deflated. She was going to do something important that would aid in destroying Voldemort for good, and she was going to be excited about it.

She was going to wear fancy dress robes, and do her best impersonation of that blond haired boy she had met in Flourish and Blott's. He had the snotty rich boy demeanor down to an art, and she thought that she'd be able to emulate his attitude pretty well; perhaps she'd make her persona a bit more likable though.

As the day passed, Arya got progressively more excited, and Sirius got increasingly mopey. Remus, who wasn't attending, laughed at their antics, and was obligated to chivy Sirius off to his room in the evening, and force him into a fancy set of robes that he'd never worn before. He came out looking very spiffy, with a fresh haircut, billowing dark gray robes, and a sour expression.

"I've spent my entire life avoiding exactly this kind thing, you know. An entire childhood spent rebelling and running away to avoid these stupid sycophantic gatherings, and here I am, marching right back into the heart of them. My mother would die of shock, if she wasn't already dead." He looked considering for a moment. "Perhaps I should have tried it earlier, could have gotten rid of her a lot sooner..."

Arya emerged from her room as Remus elbowed Sirius in the ribs, tugging on the neck of her robes to adjust them correctly. They were rather tight around the neck, and her arms felt a bit restricted, but they weren't too bad.

Sirius had gotten her a potion that she used on her hair when she washed it, and it was behaving slightly better than it's usual tangled mess. Sirius motioned for her to stand in front of him, and proceeded to twist her hair up into a bun at the top of her head, and held it in place with a pair of conjured styling spikes, shaped a bit like short chop-sticks.

"It seems wrong that this is your punishment, and yet I'm to one suffering." He gripped as he set the last pin, and Arya bounded over to the nearest mirror to examine her new style.

"You're only suffering because you're determined to be grumpy." She shot back, and Remus cackled wickedly.

"She's right, Sirius." He said. "I have a feeling that it's you who needs to practice their socializing skills, not Arya. You're not going to have much success politically if you go around looking like you're sucking on a lemon slice."

Sirius groaned dramatically, but nodded in agreement. "I know, you're right."

He let out a deep breath, and seemed to shake himself a bit, as if he could literally shake off his gloom. "Right. Need to be pleasant! I'll just have to pretend I don't hate them all."

"You don't even know a lot of them!" Arya said, coming back over to them, having finished inspecting her hair. "They can't all be bad."

She took his hand comfortingly, and Sirius couldn't help smiling at her youthful optimism. She didn't know about the work he was doing with Kreacher, and didn't know all the dirt he had found out about many of the people who would be at the party with them. It was true that he hadn't met many of the people they would see tonight, but he knew more about many of them than he truly wanted to.

It was necessary though, and he had discovered some good to go along with the bad - he had been pleased to find out, for instance, that Amelia Bones was as clean as her reputation proclaimed her to be. Slughorn, on the other hand, had a whole trail of dirty dealing in his wake, though none of it was _too _distasteful to bear.

Sirius had two objectives that he hoped to accomplish during the evening, and he was fairly confident of success on both counts. The first had begun when he had opened up communication with Slughorn by way of owl post the week before - he was to allow himself, and now Arya as well, to be scooped up into his old professors circle of influence. Sirius suspected that simple showing up would accomplish this, as accepting the man's invitation showed Slughorn that he was receptive to his attempts at collecting him. Bringing Arya along was probably over kill, but he knew that Slughorn wouldn't be able to resist her fame or resemblance to Lily. If he was being honest with himself, he could admit that her presence would be a comfort to him as well.

His second objective would depend on the success of his first task, as he would need Slughorn's cooperation for it to happen. Remus handed him a sleek black briefcase containing some vital papers that Kreacher had obtained for him, and Sirius shrank it down and put it in his pocket. He noticed Arya's curious stare, but didn't provide an explanation. She'd find out soon enough.

Remus checked the time, and shooed them towards the floo, just in time for Sirius to catch Tonks as she fell out of it. He let out a loud "ooomph" as she barreled into him, but managed to stop them from crashing into anything.

"Dora!" Remus said with surprise, reaching out to steady her as she disentangled herself from Sirius. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"Wotcher everyone!" She said cheerfully once she was upright again. "Mum said she had some awful social party to attend, so I had to plead off on account of having dinner plans with you lot. Didn't mention that you weren't aware of my dinner plans with you, so if you see her and she mentions it, this has been in the works for a week. Happen to have any leftovers? I'm starving."

She paused for breath, and got a good look at them for the first time. "Well aren't you two all dressed up? And is that cologne I smell?" She got a distinctively mischievous look in her eyes. "If I didn't know better, Sirius, I'd say that you were off to the same social event that I'm avoiding at all costs. But I know that's just impossible, because I remember you very clearly stating that you wouldn't be caught dead at one of those, the last time my mum invited you..."

Sirius groaned again as she smiled wickedly at him, though knowing that Andromeda was going to be there as well was actually a relief. Assuming, of course, that she wasn't too put out with him for showing up after rejecting her previous invite. He didn't think she'd hold it against him though.

"It's not as if I want to go, Dora." He said, and then his eyes took on an identical look of mischief as hers. "Besides, what is your mother going to think when the people you're supposedly having dinner with show up at the party? I think you might be in more trouble with Andromeda than I will be."

_That _wiped the smirk off her face. "Ah, bloo - I mean, shi-, I mean, Remus! I never said it was with all of you. Tell her I had dinner plans with Remus."

"Oh yeahhh, she won't read anything into _that_, that's much better. Such a great plan, I think I will tell her that, thanks for the suggestion." And with a last evil look at Remus and Tonks, who both looked a bit red in the face, he grabbed a handful of floo powder, and disappeared in a flash of green flames. Arya cast them a pitying look as she followed after him.

Remus was the first to recover, though his voice did sound a little choked when he spoke. "Well, looks like we have ourselves a dinner date."

Tonks' hair had bled to tomato red, in a rare lapse in control of her metamorph abilities, and her cheeks felt very flushed. She pulled herself together, reminding herself that she and Remus had been alone together plenty of times without it being awkward, and deciding that she wouldn't let Sirius's insinuations ruin her night. She'd deal with her mother when it came up.

"Right, well, let's actually go somewhere then. Preferably somewhere with decent food, and a pub, so that I can get just a bit plastered. It'll make Andromeda's visit afterward so much more enjoyable."

"Dora, I don't think anyone can get 'just a bit' plastered."

"Alright, alright, I meant shit-faced. Happy?"

Remus grinned. "There's a little muggle place just down the road that has good food and copious amounts of ale. Sound good?"

"Sounds excellent. We can discuss ways of getting payback at Sirius over our drinks."

"Ah, come on now, I'm not so bad."

"Of course you're not! We'll have a grand time, but there's no need to tell Sirius that. Let him think we suffered in terribly awkward silence all evening." Her hair slowly turned back to pink as the tension drained. "Then we can pick a suitable time to let him know he failed miserably."

"So that's Sirius taken care of, but what about your mother?"

Tonks grimaced. "If I drink enough ale, I won't remember enough of her impending visit and interrogation for it to matter. Besides, she's the one who keeps telling me that I should be dating more; can't give me too hard a time if she thinks I'm doing what she's told me too." She perked up again. "And she hasn't been told your address by Dumbledore, so you should be safe as long as you never leave your house!"

Tonks slapped his back in a falsely comforting fashion, and headed out the door. Remus followed after her, looking slightly worried and confused, but not unhappy.

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	19. Chapter 19

**A/N. **Here's the promised party! I'm assuming for the benefit of the chapter that wizards have access to banquet halls that they can reserve for parties.

Thank you for reviewing. What do you think Sirius has planned? See who figures it out!

Chapter 19

Slughorn's Christmas Party

When Arya stumbled out of the floo after Sirius, she was met with the sight of a lot of white marble. Sirius was waiting for her and was still smiling mischievously to himself, obviously proud of one-upping Tonks. Arya was just glad that he had recovered from his earlier funk, even though his happy expression faltered as he looked around the building they were in.

It appeared to be an entrance hall of some sort, and there was a line of fire places along the wall, one of which they had just come out of. They weren't alone either – party goers were emerging from the grates with flashes of green flame, and many were already making their way along the hall, toward a wide set of double doors on the far side from where Arya and Sirius were standing.

Arya reached out and grabbed Sirius's hand, tugging him reluctantly forward with the throng of people, and looking around herself eagerly before remembering that she was supposed to act more composed. Sirius hadn't told her that it was necessary, but she wanted to play her part well. She dropped Sirius's hand, and adopted a straighter pose, holding her shoulders back, and her chin slightly up. It was how that Malfoy boy had looked, and she was basing her act on him. Remembering that she didn't want to come off as dislikable as he had, she softened her expression, and smiled back at people who looked at her.

She was getting used to the way that everyone's eyes flicked up to her forehead and then back to her face, and she tried not to let her irritation with them show. Some smiled at her after they recognized who she was, though some did not.

Sirius had taken the lead, and she followed him though the large doors, and into a room that was even bigger. She had thought that the entrance hall was large, but this room made it seem cozy by comparison. The ceiling was tall and vaulted, and the walls were fronted by pillars of white marble, lavishly decorated with swaths of green and scarlet fabric. Glowing orbs of light hung in the air over their heads, casting soft but steady illumination over the room.

There were several large pine trees along the walls that caused the entire room to smell of evergreens, and Arya had to restrain herself from gawking. She had never seen anything so beautiful in her entire life. And the people were just as grand; everyone was dressed in formal robes and dresses, and the smell of their perfume mixed with pine smell in the air. Sirius looked distinctly unimpressed, but he had schooled his features into a carefully blank expression.

Arya thought that he could try to appear friendlier, but she had to admit that his look was not out of place. Many of the adults bore politely indifferent expressions, and seemed to be exchanging politely meaningless greetings with each other. Granted, she didn't have the best view to observe people from, seeing as the top of her head came up to the height of most people's middles.

She could tell that most people didn't know how to react to Sirius; his past was rarely discussed at home, or at least the last seven years were rarely mentioned. He sometimes seemed lost in thought in the middle of conversations at the cottage, and his eyes took on a haunted cast. She knew that he took a potion for dreamless sleep sometimes, but he never brought it up, and she hadn't asked. It was obvious now that his imprisonment was now effecting how people approached him, and for a moment he seemed at a loss. He and Arya drew stares as they slowly circled the perimeter of the room, and though many people looked as if they wished for the courage to speak to them, they shied back.

Arya didn't know specifically what it was that Sirius wished to accomplish by immersing himself with this crowd, but she did know that it was important. She still felt a certain apprehension when she was put in front of new people, and her instinct was to shy away and let someone else do the talking. Years with the Dursleys had left their mark on her, and she took a deep breath to steel herself before turning toward the nearest person who was staring at them.

"Hello! I'm Arya, may I ask your name?"

The woman started slightly at actually being addressed, but recovered quickly, and introduced herself to Arya, and to thus to Sirius as well. Arya had noticed that if a child was in the company of an adult, other adults tended to direct their words to the grown-up. It usually bothered her, but tonight it actually served her purposes. Her greeting seemed to open up the way for others to introduce themselves, and Sirius picked up the stream of things admirably.

Arya soon found that her job was to smile and nod, and to occasionally answer a question directed her way. There were a lot of people, and it began to feel as if she was going to meet each and every one of them. They all introduced themselves, and lingered long enough to tell Sirius what it was they did for a living, and exchange small talk before moving along. Many of them passed along business cards, and expressed the hope that they would meet again soon.

Sirius, who had seemed a bit at a loss in the beginning, was no longer floundering; in fact, he seemed to be in his element. He shook hands vigorously, smiled infectiously, complemented all the witches, and elicited laughs from even the most stoic looking strangers. He was charismatic, and notorious, and thus drew lots of attention.

Arya, remembering that she was supposed to be practicing her schmoozing, made the effort to insert herself into the conversations. At first it was hard to do, and she felt awkward speaking, but as time went by, she felt herself relax a bit. Many of the adults did tend to talk down to her, but some of them seemed to catch on to the fact that she wasn't dim. To her surprise, she found that she was good at this – she hardly even needed to remind herself of her persona. She kept her posture straight, and tried to use proper sounding vocabulary, but mostly she just smiled and talked to people.

She had arrived intending to put on an act only to find that it was infinitely easier and seemingly more effective to just be herself. Sometimes she and Sirius were drawn into separate conversations, but they always stayed close together, and Arya did her best to listen in to what he was saying. As far as she could tell, he was just getting to know as many people as possible – they met people from all over the country, in a huge range of professions, and Sirius seemed intent on forming a personal bond with a large amount of them. Sometimes they exchanged small talk that sounded like it might have double meanings, but Arya was at a loss as to what they meant. Many of them had very considering looks on their faces as they walked away.

Andromeda eventually made her way over to them, and they had a brief respite from all the introductions. She was dressed in flowing robes of deep blue, and looked both beautiful and slightly intimidating. Her husband presented the perfect contrast, with his slightly wide girth and friendly, smiling demeanor. Arya was glad to see them, because though socializing was coming easier to her than she had expected, she did feel a certain amount of tension.

"Sirius! I didn't expect to see you here." Andromeda glided forward and clasped his hands in her own, kissing him on either cheek. Ted shook his hand, and clasped Arya's shoulder in a friendly manner, and she smiled up at him happily; She, Sirius, and Remus had been frequent visitors at the Tonks's house over the last several months.

"In fact I was under the impression that Dora was spending the evening at the cottage." Andromeda raised an eyebrow in question as she continued. "Unless of course, she was just coming up with wild excuses to not attend tonight."

Sirius did an excellent job of keeping the wickedness out of his expression when he answered her. "She is at the cottage, Dromeda. I believe she and Remus have dinner plans for tonight."

Andromeda's carefully polite look of neutral interested faltered, and was replaced by a brief look of shock.

"What?"

Her voice was a bit sharp, and loud enough that several people nearby turned their heads to look over at them. Ted rested a hand on the small of his wife's back, and she schooled her features into calmness once more. Sirius suddenly looked unsure of himself, and tried to back pedal quickly.

"I mean, I think she was under the impression that we'd all be there, since I didn't decide to come until just recently. It's not like it was a date, really, since…" He faltered again under the look she was giving him, and Arya hid a snicker behind her hand. It was obvious that Andromeda didn't believe a word of his excuses.

They were interrupted before the conversation could continue by a new arrival to their group. Arya's first impression of the man was that he looked something like a walrus. He was wearing dark brown robes that were strained at the seams across his large belly, and he had a spectacular ginger mustache that gave his entire appearance an almost comical cast.

Her second impression was a bit different, and it was formed based on his eyes, which weren't comical at all. He smiled, and laughed as he shook hands with Sirius and greeted the Tonks's, but his eyes remained aloof and calculating. He managed to seem entirely present, as if Sirius had his full attention, but Arya didn't think he was missing a single thing that was going on around them, either. She was reminded of Lucius Malfoy for a moment, even though they looked so entirely different in every other regard - their eyes missed nothing. She revised her opinion when he turned his gaze directly on her; Lucius Malfoy's eyes had surely never held that much emotion.

He was in the middle of an amusing anecdote for the benefit of his guests, when his eyes traveled downward, and landed on Arya. He actually faltered mid-sentence, and Arya saw his eyes go from calculation, to shock, and then to grief, before he pulled himself together and finished his tale. Sirius and the others laughed, and Slughorn turned his attention to her immediately.

"I heard whispers while I was across the room that Arya Potter was here, I'm thrilled to see that it's true!"

He shook her hand, and Arya felt that he was actually giving them his full focus for the first time. She smiled up at him, though she wasn't sure what to make of him.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Slughorn."

"Such a polite young lady! Very nice to meet you as well."

He glanced at her scar the same way everyone did, but he seemed more interested with looking at her in general than he did with looking at her scar. Arya remembered what Sirius had said about him being fond of her mother. She often wondered if her appearance caused Sirius and Remus pain; sometimes she caught them looking at her as if they were seeing someone else entirely, and she thought perhaps Slughorn was having the same painful remembrances.

"You look so much like your mother…"

He said softly, almost as if to himself, - confirming that he was thinking along the same lines as she was.

"Sirius says that you knew her?" She asked.

"Oh yes, I knew Lily Evans quite well. It was very improper for the head of Slytherin house to have their favorite student be a Gryffindor, but I simply couldn't help it. Smart, charming, talented, and extraordinarily kind of heart; what was there not to like?"

He wiped a tear on the sleeve of his robe, and continued speaking, regaining a bit of his happy enthusiastic tone.

"Of course, I knew James a bit as well! I think I could have persuaded him to join my little club, if Sirius here hadn't refused so resolutely."

Sirius grinned unrepentantly at him, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Hope you're not carrying a grudge, Horace. It just so happened that I detested a good fifty percent of your club members; nothing against you personally you see."

Slughorn laughed. "You always were a trouble maker, Sirius Black. I dare say you'll have run into many of those you profess such distaste for this evening."

"A surprising amount of them, yes. I hope you won't mention my opinion of them when you speak to them."

"No, no, of course I wouldn't stir the cauldron." He said reassuringly, and turned back to Arya. "Your father and Sirius here got into more trouble at school than anyone I've ever known, did you know? Brilliant, the both of them, and yet they never figured out a way to stay out of detention."

Arya grinned mischievously, and Slughorn laughed with a start of surprise. "Oh ho! There's a bit of James showing through! Your father had the grin of a poltergeist, seeing that on Lily's face is surreal." He paused, and turned to Sirius. "You know, I keep saying 'your father' in reference to James, but I suppose you'll have formalized the adoption? Everything happened so fast in these last few months, nothing was ever in the papers."

Arya started, her grin fading. How had she never thought of that? She had just been so happy to leave the Dursley's that it had never occurred to her to question the legal side of things. She hadn't wondered about adoption, because she had decided to just trust Sirius's word that she would be with him from then on. She looked up at him as he answered.

"Of course, the very night we took over custody from her aunt and uncle. Dumbledore filed the paper work with both the muggle courts and the Ministry of Magic, and everything went through without a hitch."

Slughorn gave some kind of response about how pleased he was, but Arya didn't really hear it. Sirius had legally been her father for the last seven months, and she hadn't even known about it. It wasn't as if it changed anything, - Sirius and Remus had made it clear that they were family to her now, but it still felt like it mattered. Sirius hadn't just taken her in and agreed to take care of her, - he had adopted her. She wrenched her thoughts away from the matter for the present, in time to hear what Sirius was saying next.

"We wanted to keep things out of the paper as much as possible, especially considering the scruples I have with the current owners, and some of the questionable reporters they employ."

Sirius said it casually, but Arya sensed that this was something he had been leading up to with this entire outing.

Slughorn raised an eyebrow slightly, and suddenly seemed very curious. "Scruples, Sirius? I know that Rita Skeeter is less than reputable, but I haven't heard anything untoward about the owners. Perhaps that they are often accused of being biased in favor of the Ministry, but patriotism is hardly a crime."

Sirius reached into the pocket of his robe and withdrew a small black briefcase, which reverted to its normal size once it was free of his pocket. He opened it, and began to rifle through the papers inside.

"Some very interesting things are about to come to light, Horace. I'm actually hoping to run into Amelia Bones here tonight, I heard she was going to be in attendance. Seeing as I owe her my freedom, I thought I'd hand my findings over to her, let her take the credit for discovering their crimes, you understand."

Slughorn looked as though he was about to keel over from the amount of curiosity that was plaguing him, and Andromeda and Ted were busy pretending not to listen.

"Madame Bones isn't actually here this evening, Sirius. She was invited, of course, but isn't much in the way of enjoying social outings, you understand. May I enquire as to the nature of your findings?"

Sirius sighed with false disappointment at the news, but shrugged his assent to Slughorn's inquiry.

"It's all in the nature of corruption, Horace. It seems that the owner has been accepting bribes from multiple sources within the Ministry, and has been laundering large amounts of galleons through the Prophet. I'm afraid this will mean the ends of quite a few careers, not to mention that the Prophet owner will have to sell his shares, if he doesn't want the business to sink with the scandal."

"Indeed! That is shocking news, very shocking indeed. You have absolute proof? Of course you do, of course you do. I must admit to being a bit upset, he was a former student of mine you see. I played quite a hand in getting him to where is now… This won't be good for me, I'm afraid. No idea he would turn out to be a rotten egg, but I suppose too much ambition can lead anyone down a distasteful path…"

Arya didn't even think that he was putting on a show; he seemed genuinely disappointed in the man, not least of all because it would reflect poorly on him.

Sirius feigned surprise. "I didn't know you had a connection to him, Horace! I suppose I could not hand this over…" He feigned consideration for just a moment before shaking his head. "No, it just wouldn't be right to let him continue on as he has been, with no consequences for his actions. I'm afraid I just can't just let it go, I'm sorry Horace."

"No, don't apologize! You're quite right to act against him." He shifted his feet, and his face took on a very cunning look. "But, you know, handing this over to Madame Bones might not be the only way to handle this… Might be able to settle it quieter, you might say. I know some very good legal councilors - might be able to arrange a meeting; I'm sure if he was presented with your evidence, he could be convinced to step down quietly… It could be done very privately, a sudden suite and a fast settlement – if you would allow me to speak to Amelia on your behalf, perhaps the department would agree to let him pay out his fine out of the public eye."

Sirius seemed to find this a wonderful idea, and agreed readily. "Of course, I would like to be kept involved. After seeing how badly the business has been handled these last few years, I feel obligated to guide it into better hands, you understand."

He said it with a very meaningful look, and Slughorn looked as if he understood exactly what he meant. There was a lot of double-speak going on, and Arya wondered if that was a common thing with this type of crowd. Everyone saying one thing, and meaning another; if everyone understood what was really being said, why not just say it in a straight forward manner?

Slughorn lingered for a few more minutes before departing to socialize with the rest of his guests, and Sirius led her to where the food was being served. Having mouths full of food gave them an excuse not to talk to people for a while, for which Arya was happy. She had a lot on her mind, between the revelation that she was officially adopted, and deciphering the point behind Sirius and Slughorn's conversation. Despite the fact that Slughorn had been the one to come up with the solution, she had the suspicion that it had somehow been Sirius's idea all along.

After they had eaten, they dived back into mingling and chatting, and even Arya was willing to admit that she was bored by the time Sirius announced that it was time to head home. The room was grand, the food amazing, and the people very impressive, but the beauty of the whole thing did seem a little hollow. Everyone looked glamorous, and said nice things, but everyone seemed to want something from everyone they spoke to also.

There were layers to everything going on, but she thought that nothing she had seen tonight had more depth than Slughorn. She didn't agree with Sirius's dislike of the man, because he seemed too complex for Sirius's reasoning. He had described him as lazy and cunning, and manipulative for his own benefit, and Arya thought that he might be all of those things, but there was more to him than that. He was a curious mix of crafty and sincere, and Arya decided to reserve judging him until she knew him better.

It was a relief to step out of the fire into the cottage once again, and she immediately went to her room to change out of her fancy robes and into her pajamas. The tight neck had begun to itch at her halfway through the night, her dress shoes had squeezed her toes, and the restricted movement of her arms had been beginning to make her feel like a penguin.

She sighed with relief, and stretched her arms out as she made her way back to the living room. Sirius was already horizontal on the couch with a pillow over his head. Arya fetched them each a butterbeer, and then scooched his feet off the couch so that she could sit down. He grumbled, but sat up when she offered him the drink. All they'd had to drink at the party was nasty dry wine for the adults and water for the kids, of which there were few.

"I can see why you wouldn't want to go to those all the time, but it was still interesting. You didn't really hate it, did you? You seemed pretty good at it, anyway."

Sirius sighed, but didn't look too glum.

"I hate that I am good at it."

Arya raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"That doesn't make sense, Sirius."

"It's all a load of false smiling and posturing, and my entire family was always good at it. I never wanted to be like them in any way, so finding that I have a talent for it doesn't thrill me. It's a game for them, and everyone's playing for a different end. I can't help being disgusted with myself for having such a natural talent for it."

Arya threw a pillow at him.

"Ah! What was that for?" He whomped her with it in retaliation, and she leapt off the couch to avoid a second hit, giggling madly.

"For moping! You're good at something that will make it easier to accomplish good things, so don't be sulky."

Sirius stuck his tongue out at her instead of replying, accomplished politician that he was.

"Besides," She added, "Andromeda seems comfortable there, and she's family that you like."

Sirius agreed reluctantly, and called a truce to their pillow fight so that she could return to the couch. Arya wanted to discuss her adoption that she hadn't been aware of, but before she could think of where to start, they were both distracted by the sound of voices coming from outside.

"Remus and Tonks must be back from the village." Sirius said, leaning over to peek out of the curtains. "Hope it wasn't too – wait. Are they singing?"

Arya clambered over the back of the couch to look out the window as well, and saw two figures coming toward them through a light dusting of snow that was falling. It appeared to be Remus and Tonks, but they were walking slowly, each with an arm around the shoulder of the other, and they staggered every once in a while due to their odd position. And yes, they were definitely singing. Badly.

It sounded like an incredibly off key version of Deck the Halls, but it was hard to tell through the awful singing and the wrong lyrics. Apparently Remus had taught Tonks Sirius's version of the song.

When Arya looked at Sirius, she saw that his mouth was open in astonishment. "Remus never sings!"

"Guess we know why." Arya sniggered, just as Remus let out a particularly loud and flat high note.

"Merlin, they must be so plast-, er, - happy?"

"Yeah, sure, Sirius. The kind of happy my aunt gets after having nine glasses of Christmas punch when my uncle isn't home…"

Sirius gave her a very shocked look, and then burst out laughing, apparently able to imagine Petunia getting wasted. It took a lot of alcohol to make that woman lose control of her prim and strict demeanor, and the thought was hilarious. Arya grinned; it had only happened once, and her aunts face the one time Arya had mentioned it had been absolutely mortified, followed by absolutely enraged. She liked to pretend that it never happened.

Sirius was still laughing when Remus and Tonks staggered through the door, and Arya stuffed her fingers in her ears as the cat ran from the room in fear. What they lacked in talent, they were making up for in volume, and even Sirius stopped laughing long enough to stick his fingers in his ears when they decided to serenade them with a chorus of Good King Wenceslas.

Even if Remus didn't recollect the moment very clearly the next morning, it was something that Sirius would never let him forget.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N. **Been having a bit of writers block, so sorry if this is a bit short and rough. Hopefully the next one will be smoother!

Thank you to everyone who follows this story, or Favorited it, reviewed it, or simply reads it. It makes me very happy to share my writing with you.

Chapter 20

The Shifting of Power

11pm December 24th

Remus John Lupin had been bitten by a werewolf when he was five years old, and his condition had changed the path of his life forever. If his condition was known to those around him as a child he had been pitied, and as an adult he was feared and hated; the exceptions to the rule had been his school days – his friends had found out his secret, and instead of turning away from him had shown him their full support. With their encouragement he had overcome his conviction that his lot in life would prevent him from accomplishing anything of note it the world. His self-confidence emerged for the first time when he was a teenager, and his friends had helped him kindle his ambition and determination.

After graduation, things had been hard. He'd lost his parents, and was fighting daily in the war, but he was strong, and he'd still had his friends by his side. Within twenty four hours he'd lost them all – Lily, James, and Peter were all dead, and Sirius was worse than dead to him. The war had ended, and the feral werewolves had come down on the wrong side of it; the stigma of his illness prevailed widely in the following years, and Remus became a defeated man. He stopped trying to change the world's view of his condition, and resigned himself to the outskirts of the wizarding world, the Last Marauder.

Remus sat in the armchair in his sitting room, holding a cup of tea and a book in his lap, as he had done many times in the last six and a half years. The full moon would be in a few nights, and he could already feel its pull on his energy and mood. He could hear Sirius snoring from down the hall, and Arya was asleep on the couch with her book on the floor where it had fallen. Remus smiled, and got up to recover the book, setting it on the coffee table and drawing the old couch blanket over Arya, before settling back into his armchair.

It was startling how fast things could change in life; the attack as a child had been over within seconds and changed his course in life forever. He had made friends in a few short weeks of school that had changed his course again, and lost had them years later within the span of twenty four hours. Stagnation had lasted for six long years, and then sudden change once again. Sirius's trial had lasted mere hours, and he had been free only a week before taking custody of Arya.

Remus had grown accustom to his quite, never changing existence over the years. He hadn't been happy, but his resignation had offered a kind of peace. Life wasn't easy, but there had been simplicity in his continual drudgery. Being a werewolf was never easy, but giving up had been. And then into his simple and dreary life, fate had dropped his ex-convict best friend and an eight year old child smack into the middle of his dull routine. If anyone was good at shaking things up, it was Arya and Sirius.

Despite all of the things that Remus still did the same, he barely recognized himself some days. He was proud that despite having given up, he hadn't hesitated to jump back into the world when the opportunity had arrived in the form of his old friend. It felt good to be involved in meaningful things again. It was as if he had been barely managing to tread water over the last six years, and had suddenly found himself on dry land again. He wondered if he'd have ever come out of it on his own; he was able to admit to himself that he didn't think he would have. He was determined to never let himself sink into his pit of passivity again.

Despite his newly kindled determination, and his sudden financial gain, he hadn't known quite how to begin with some of his bigger goals. He had found his old self again, but even in his years as a Hogwarts student surrounded by his friends, he hadn't had much money. He now had his old ambition to change the way werewolves were treated in society, and the money to actually accomplish his goals. He simply hadn't known where to begin, and had spent the last few months adjusting to so many changes in his personal life that his larger ideas had been pushed to the corners of his mind.

Sirius hadn't wasted his time in a similar fashion, but had jumped straight in instead. He'd always had more energy than was strictly good for someone, and Remus had been impressed with the purpose Sirius had put his manic drive towards. The formally careless and indolent troublemaker was making a tremendous effort into being a parent and a political force, simultaneously. They had spent many evenings after Arya had gone to bed with their heads together, coming up with schemes and plans; Sirius was a powerhouse of ideas, and Remus was, as he had always been, the voice of reason.

And now, sitting on the table next to him, was the fruit of their labors. The first of many schemes had gone better than Remus had expected, and quicker as well. Sirius and Slughorn had been exchanging a flurry of letters, and Remus and Arya had been left to their own devices often as Sirius scurried to the Ministry and back, sometimes as many as two times a day. The department of Magical Law Enforcement had handled the case quietly, and the owner of the Daily Prophet had quickly realized that he was cornered – he was no longer the owner. He had been forced to sell his shares, and had paid an enormous fine to the MLE department. The shares might have gone up to public auction, except for Slughorns influence. The old potions professor had instead arranged the opportunity for Sirius to buy him out, which he had done (thus providing the money for the previous owner to pay his enormous fine). It had been a profitable arrangement for the Ministry, and Slughorn had been grateful for a way to save face.

Slughorn, however, wasn't aware of the second phase of their plan; in fact he wasn't much aware of Remus's involvement at all. Slughorn had collected the Black that had alluded him for years, and had avoided tarnishing his reputation but now he was about to be surprised by an element he hadn't considered worth his notice before.

Remus took another sip of tea, and eyed the drying ink on the stack of papers next to him. Sirius's first act as the owner of the Daily Prophet had been to sign the entire business over to Remus. Sirius had been the first to admit that he had neither the time nor the inclination to run the newspaper, and they had both agreed that it was a job better suited to Remus. Slughorn, as a member of the Hogwarts staff back in the day was aware of Remus's condition, and because he knew it would hinder any professional career in his future hadn't paid him much attention as a student, despite his excellent marks. Remus didn't blame him, but he hadn't much liked it either, and was happy to prove his judgement wrong. He was sure Slughorn would transfer some of his attention from Sirius to himself after he announced his ownership; Slughorn wasn't the type of man to let anything get in the way of his influence. He'd adapt to the change of plans.

Sirius and Remus, and thus Dumbledore, now held great access to the influence of the Wizarding world; no longer would the main source of magical news in Britain pander to the corrupt and incompetent power of the Ministry. He would have to change things subtly at first, but change things he would. The information that Kreacher had uncovered now had a means for publication, and they would feed the elfs' information to the correct reporters, - the rest would take care of itself. They would do it slowly over the years, and with any luck, it would take the former Death Eaters a long time to even figure out that they were targets.

Remus smiled to himself, and felt a warm glow in his heart, despite the approaching full moon. This wasn't just a chance to counter the coming return of Voldemort that Dumbledore had been predicting for years. It was also a chance to improve wizarding relations with werewolves. As far as Remus knew, he would be the first werewolf to own his own business of this caliber. Many business wouldn't hire werewolves, and the ministry allowed the discrimination under the guise of protecting wizarding rights. There were no laws about what to do about a werewolf business owner though, because the bigotry prevalent in their society had prevented anyone with his condition to attain such a position in the first place.

There had been a faction within the department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures that had been impeding any progress of werewolf relations over the last decade or so. In an age where things were supposed to be improving, things had been getting worse for his kind instead of better.

He would wait for them to "expose" his condition to the public, and then he would leak Kreacher's information of their various sordid habits and dark secrets to Rita Skeeter, and succinctly publish her candid article on the front page of his next issue. She may be a horrible person but she had a large base of readers that would follow her and she was firmly under control, especially now that they could offer her employment once more. She could continue to writer her nasty articles, but they would be the ones providing her targets.

The shock the public would feel on learning that their paper was owned by a werewolf would immediately be eclipsed in a flood of scandal that his paper would have sole knowledge of. No matter their prejudice, they wouldn't be able to resist buying and reading his paper.

It was a large business, and he was going to start a program that would offer employment opportunities to other werewolves. In the large scale of things it seemed like a small thing, but it was unprecedented as well. He knew that it would cause uproar, but the more attention it got, the better.

He was prepared to fight tooth and nail for his cause, and he knew he wasn't going to have to do it alone. Arya mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "more cheese, please" into her pillow and rolled over on the couch, and Sirius's snores from down the hall were only growing louder. Remus finished the last of his tea, and stood to make his way down the hall to his room.

There was a subtle flash of light, and a bundle of presents appeared by those already under the Christmas tree. Remus bent down to read the note on the top parcel, and recognized Dora's loopy handwriting. There was one for each of them, and Remus hesitated before removing the one with his name on it, and taking it with him to his room. It was past midnight after all, so technically it was Christmas day already. He was glad he hadn't opened it in the living room when he discovered that the card sang when opened. He jumped, slammed it closed, and performed a muffling jinx on his doorway before opening it again.

It seemed to be a nicer version of the carols he vaguely remembered singing on their return to the cabin a few nights ago, and she had written inside that it was for him to practice with for their next outing. He laughed, but sincerely hoped that there would be no singing next time they were together; Sirius still hadn't stopped laughing at him, and Arya had taken to performing the carols in what Sirius swore was a dead-on impersonation of him. She sounded a bit like a tone deaf banshee.

The box contained home baked chocolate treats, and another note was tucked inside resting on top of a pile of cookies, and slightly stained with butter marks. The writing was slightly messier than usual, and the paper was slightly crumpled; he wondered if she'd tossed it inside at the last moment.

Remus! Merry Christmas! Hope you like the treats, I didn't quite know what else to get you. Since I'm hungry all the time, I just assume food is a good option, so here's dessert first, and I'll take you out for dinner sometime for the rest of your present. I promise we don't have to sing!

Love, Tonks

Remus smiled, and helped himself to a cookie as he got ready for sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N. **Finally finished it!

Leave a review if you have the time, I hope you like this one!

(I think Arya saying things in the early morning that she's usually too shy to say is going to be a re-occurring theme. It's so easy to picture her drowsly talking more than she means to when she first wakes up.)

Chapter 21

December 25th

Although Arya had disliked the Dursleys for as long as she could remember, she had continued to long for their love and acceptance for many years. Even as she had grown older, and the mutual dislike between her and her relatives had grown she hadn't been able to repress the part of her that longed for them to love her. They never had. And to be honest, she wasn't sure that she had any love for them either. She hadn't wanted them to love her because she loved them, she had just been so starved for affection that she wouldn't have cared much to question the source if it appeared.

Christmas had been on the top of the list of occasions that made her feel especially awful and un-lovable, right along with her birthday. Any child would be jealous of a sibling getting more presents, and although Arya definitely had present envy, it was mostly the way that her aunt and uncle showered Dudley with affection that had made her feel bitter and sad. It was what they did every day, but it being Christmas had really driven the point home for her every year. As she had gotten older, she had wondered why they had taken her in and kept her in the first place; she had come to the conclusion that they simply liked having someone around to bully. Now she knew that she had been placed there by wizards for her own protection, but she was still partially convinced that her uncle would have gotten rid of her somehow if he hadn't enjoyed tormenting her at least a little bit.

She had fallen asleep Christmas Eve night on the couch in the living room, and had only woken up a little when Remus had draped the old blanket around her before leaving the room. They had a tree up in the living room that they had decorated with multi colored magical lights, and dozing off while watching the patterns they made through the branches on the ceiling was comforting. The cat was curled up on her shins fast asleep, and she could hear Sirius snoring down the hall. Presents had been magically appearing under the tree all evening, and Arya felt that she was going to get a real Christmas at last.

She had gone along with the Dursley's to visit her aunt Marge one Christmas, and it had been quite late when they had made the drive home. Dudley had alternated between falling asleep in his seat, snoring loudly, and waking up to complain about how tired he was. Arya had stayed awake the entire drive happy to be ignored by her relatives, and looking out her window. All the houses they passed were lit up, and she could see brightly gleaming trees in the windows. Every house they passed looked warm, happy, and inviting; Arya had spent much of her day in her cupboard, and the rest of it being terrorized by her Aunt Marge's bull dog, Ripper.

It was strange to remember that overwhelming sense of loneliness that had overtaken her that night, now that she was in a warm cottage, with a brightly gleaming tree of her own.

Her thoughts led her to where they so often had in the last week; her parents. She had fanaticized about them while at the Dursleys, but hadn't had much information to go on. When she had moved in with Sirius and Remus, she'd suddenly had all the information about them that two of their oldest friends combined could give her. She had pictures and stories, and was now able to feel closer to them than she ever had before. She had been able to visit their old home and their graves for the first time – in a way their loss hurt more now than it ever had before, because they were real people to her now instead of fantasy figures created from the wishful mind of a young girl. And despite her connection with them, they were still gone.

She thought about the Resurrection Stone a lot, and of the story of the Three Brothers. She knew that the story warned of the dangers of calling people back from death, warned that it would cause misery and pain to be so close to someone, but unable to be truly together. The middle brother had been driven to suicide by the despair bringing back his lover had caused. She wondered if it was the same kind of pain that learning about her parents had given her; able to know them a little, but never completely.

Sirius and Remus could answer her questions about her parents past, but what would they think of her now? The scary bit for Arya was how often she didn't wonder about her parent's opinion of things – she just went directly to Sirius or Remus for help. She had gotten so used to roughing things on her own with her aunt and uncle, that going to anyone for help or second opinions had been strange at first. She was realizing now that that was the purpose of parents, and that Sirius and Remus were more of parental figures than she'd ever had before. Being an orphan had become a part of who she was – she hadn't been happy about it, but when the Dursley's had continued to reject her, she had made it a piece of her identity.

Arya had been thrilled to accept Sirius and Remus as parental figures, which she had been without since before she could remember. She wasn't sure why she was hesitating now, but for some reason Sirius and Slughorn's exchange at the party kept haunting her. She had been adopted. What was the difference between a father figure, and an actual father, exactly? She wasn't sure that it should make a difference to her, because it didn't change her situation at all, but it felt as if it truly mattered.

If she was adopted, didn't that make Sirius her father, not just her Godfather? Having never experienced having parents before, she wasn't sure if that was how it worked. He was legally her father, if she had understood the conversation correctly, but did he consider himself in that regard? Did he think of her as a daughter?

Arya felt like a mixed up bag of emotions about the whole thing. She wanted Sirius to be her father. She wanted him to consider her his daughter, not just his God-daughter. The idea evoked a longing inside of her that scared her with its intensity. There was also a deep sense of guilt lying heavy in her stomach.

James was her father, and from what she had managed to pry from Sirius and Remus, he had died trying to protect her and her mother. Her mother had sacrificed herself to save her, and now Arya wanted to be someone else's daughter. It felt like a betrayal.

She was tired and drowsy enough as she lay on the couch that night that all of her longing, worry, and guilt had a muffled quality to it, with the peaceful quite night of Christmas Eve to act as a satirical back drop to her inner turmoil.

It was galling that the only way to actually know how they'd feel about the whole situation was in Dumbledore's possession. Bringing people back with the resurrection stone wouldn't be good for anyone in the long run, but couldn't she just have them back for a day? The very thought was painful. How would she ever be able to let them go, if she had the choice to be with them instead? She knew in her gut that it wasn't going to happen. She wasn't even going to ask; if they couldn't stay, than what was the point?

Arya thought that her troubled thoughts might keep her awake, but she was asleep again within half an hour of Remus leaving the room.

6Am Christmas Morning

Sirius POV

Sirius was rarely the first to get up, but he had ordered Kreacher to wake him especially early on Christmas morning. For once the house elf was going to be helping out with more mundane household tasks than his usual duty of espionage; Sirius wanted to surprise Remus and Arya with an extensive Christmas breakfast and Kreacher was there to help. The elf had gotten over his dislike of Sirius over the last few months, and much of Sirius's distaste for the elf had faded as well. Kreacher had been an invaluable help in information gathering, and he had even ceased to mutter insults under his breath. As Sirius had expected, Kreacher had begun to adopt the views of his master, and fewer and fewer pureblood nonsense was expressed in his information giving reports.

The only true obstacle that the elf had come up against while on his mission was the families that had house elves of their own. Many such families probably didn't realize that their servants provided them with their own brand of protection. It was a problem for another day though; Sirius's only problem this morning was tackling breakfast preparation.

Waking up to Kreacher's ugly face a few inches away from his own was enough to give him a better jolt of energy than his morning cup of tea could ever achieve, and he felt ready to get a productive start on his day after he had recovered from his unpleasant shock.

Sirius smiled when he entered the main area of the cottage and saw that Arya had fallen asleep on the couch, draped in Remus's old blanket with one of her many books close at hand. She had one pajama clad leg sticking out of the blanket, and her hair was an absolute rat's nest; she must have been tossing and turning for at least part of the night.

Because Sirius expected that he and Kreacher wouldn't be working quietly, he gently scooped her up and walked her to her room, blanket and all. She woke up a bit as he was tucking her in to her bed, and muttered something that might have been an inquiry about the time.

Sirius tousled her hair fondly.

"Too early. Go back to sleep, I'll wake you for breakfast when it's done."

He made to leave, but Arya snaked an arm out from under the covers and grabbed his wrist. She looked a bit more awake now, but was still a bit unfocused. Sirius knelt back down so that he could hear her.

"At Slughorns party last week, you said… Did you really adopt me?" She stared up at him with sleep clouded eyes, and Sirius frowned in slight confusion.

"Of course I did. Lily and James made it very clear in their will that I would take custody; not to say that I wouldn't have just kidnapped you from the Dursley's, but we thought it would be best to make it all legal and such… Dumbledore did all the paper work filing the very night you moved in here"

Arya blinked tiredly at him, and he continued. "I suppose I never explained any of that, did I?"

She shook her head.

"Well, not much to explain, really. Your aunt and uncle were your legal guardians, but they never adopted you. Somehow I don't think that's what Lily and James had in mind for me to do if something happened to them. James took me aside the day he asked me to be your godfather, you know. Told me that if I accepted, and something happened to him and Lily, I'd have to get used to the idea of being a parent. Not something I'd ever really planned on, but I never even thought of saying no."

"You don't think they'd mind, then? Since you adopted me, that makes you my father, doesn't it? I feel like I'm betraying them… like I'm replacing them…"

She rolled over and buried her head in the pillow, muffling her last sentence. Sirius felt a lump form in his throat, and had to pause for a moment before he could reply.

"All that Lily and James would care about is your wellbeing, Arya. They'd want you to have a family, even if they couldn't be there as they'd planned. They'd want us to be a family, Arya. I know it."

He put an arm around her shoulder comfortingly, and she eventually peeked out from her hiding spot between the pillow and her hair.

"You really think so?"

"I really, really do. This been worrying you for a while?"

She nodded.

"Better now?"

She nodded again.

"Good. Think you'll get some more sleep?"

She nodded yet again, but sat up and gave him a hug as well. Sirius wrapped both arms around her thin frame and hugged back fiercely. He really didn't think he could love her any more if she was his biological daughter.

"I love you, Kiddo."

"I love you too, dad." She said, and dove back into her pillow. Sirius pulled the blanket up around her shoulders again and made his way back to the kitchen, where Kreacher had breakfast well underway.

He was not crying. Sirius Orion Black, survivor of the first wizarding war, ex-prisoner of Azkaban, last of his family lineage, - definitely wasn't crying because he had just been called dad. He dabbed his eyes on the corner of a dish clothe, and ignored Kreacher's curious staring.

The day passed in a blur of delicious food, flurries of gift opening, and the company of good friends and family. The breakfast that Kreacher and Sirius cooked up could have fed a family of fifteen instead of three, and everyone spent the time before they headed out to the Weasley's in the slight daze of a food stupor. Lunch with the Weasleys was a boisterous affair that made Sirius wish he'd brought earplugs, and Arya spent the visit glued to Ginny and Ron as usual. It took both Remus and Sirius a quarter hour to track them down outside where they were playing and pry Arya away for their next engagement.

Dinner with the Tonks's was quieter, but just as fun in its own way as the dinner with the Weasleys. Tonks entertained them at great length with stories and impersonations of the people she worked with, complete with total transformations and reenactments. Even Andromeda, who usually disapproved of such behavior at the dinner table, cracked up when Tonks did her Mad Eye Moody impression. Sirius figured that seeing Mad Eye in Tonks's fluffy red cardigan, stomping around the sitting room and twitching at everyone might have even made Severus Snape crack a grin.

Remus was managing to keep his energy up, even though Sirius could tell that the proximity of the full moon was starting to drain him. Sirius almost choked on his pudding when Andromeda summoned a small box, sat down next to Remus, and started showing him a whole bunch of photos; Tonks's baby photos, to be exact. Remus retained a politely baffled expression as Andromeda determinedly piled photo after photo of baby Dora into his hands. Every new photograph was accompanied by her reminiscing about how it felt just like yesterday that she was just running around in nappies…

Sirius had been wondering when the fallout of his big mouth at Slughorn's party would happen, and now he knew. It took Tonks a few moments to notice what was happening, and the look on her face when she realized what her mother was up to was pure mortification. Some deft wand work had the box and all of its contents zooming out of the room, leaving Remus staring bemusedly at his empty hands. Tonks was red from the collar of her cardigan to the tips of her spiky red hair. Andromeda simply looked a bit smug, and sipped from her tea as if nothing unusual had occurred.

By the time they arrived back at their cottage Sirius was a bit tired, Remus was exhausted, and Arya was bouncing off the walls, - probably due to the amount of sugar she had consumed throughout the day. Remus stayed awake long enough to open presents with them around the Christmas tree, and then retired to his room to sleep. Arya would be spending tomorrow night with the Weasleys while the full moon was taking place.

Sirius knew that Arya hated being unable to help Remus during his transformations; he remembered how helpless he and James had felt before they had completed their transformations and started keeping him company on the full moon nights. She insisted on learning potions, and he knew it was because she wanted to be able to make the wolfsbane potion like Sirius did every month. She had her mother's aptitude for the subject, though Sirius hadn't let her attempt anything too dangerous yet. He kept her to the simpler potion brewing, and let her read the advanced books on the subject.

Sirius had just stretched out on the couch with a sigh, content to lounge away the rest of the evening while Arya dove into one of the many books she had received as gifts, when there was a knock on the front door. Arya jumped up to answer it, and Sirius raised an eyebrow in sardonic expectation; very few people had access to their address, and if there wasn't any advance warning of a visitor than it was almost certainly – the door opened, and Albus Dumbledore swept into the room.

Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore POV

Albus Dumbledore had been meaning to pay a visit to Remus's cottage ever since he had received Sirius's letter about Arya's eavesdropping a few weeks ago. Unfortunately the holidays were a busy time at the Ministry, and between his position of Supreme Mugwump and the fact that Cornelius Fudge seemed to require his help with every little problem that occurred, he'd found himself very busy over the last two weeks.

Ironically, the problem that the minister had wanted help with was the Daily Prophet suit that had been taking place in the department of magical law enforcement, which Dumbledore had encouraged Sirius and Remus to pursue.

As the Hogwarts feast had ended, Dumbledore had decided that he had delayed long enough; it was time to teach Arya Potter how to protect her mind. He had contemplated all possible courses of action, and had settled on teaching her occlemency as soon as possible – it would have been simpler and easier to remove the memory from her mind, but he had disregarded that option as soon as he had thought of it. Memory spells were tricky, and the risk of performing one on a child was too great to chance. He felt mildly uncomfortable teaching occlemency to someone so young, and so vital, but he knew it was the right thing to do. He would have to build a relationship with her based on trust, not the ability to look into her mind at will. He would have to trust that he was right about her nature, and that he wasn't repeating his old mistakes.

He'd also considered delegating the lessons to Severus instead, because while Dumbledore was the superior at legilamancy, Severus was the superior at occlemency. That arrangement, however, was probably asking too much of both Sirius and Severus. Perhaps he could take over when Arya began her Hogwarts education in a few years.

Dumbledore knocked on the cottage door, and it swung open almost immediately, revealing Arya standing in the doorway, and Sirius horizontal on the couch. Arya beamed at him happily and stepped to the side, allowing him to sweep into the cottage.

"Happy Holidays to both of you! I come bearing the greatest of gifts – Knowledge!"

Most eight year olds wouldn't have been terribly pleased with that pronouncement, but Arya looked excited by the prospect.

"To be less vague, I've come to begin teaching you the art of Occlemency. You are very young to be taught, but I do believe that some of the older wizarding families used to teach their children from an even younger age than yourself."

Arya bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement, and Dumbledore realized that trying to teach an eight year old to control and discipline their mind after a full day of eating sweets wasn't the brightest idea he'd ever had. Alas, it was too late to turn back now.

Sirius prepared a kettle of tea while Dumbledore explained the basics to Arya, about how occlemency was all about mental control of emotions and errant thoughts. In order to keep someone out of your head, you had to gain control of your feelings and mind. Many believed that starting to learn while still a child actually made things easier in the long run; adults and teenagers were much more set in their ways, and it was harder to teach them to change.

Sirius brought over the tea, and they all settled at the table together.

"Now, before we can begin, there is the matter of you not having a wand. Occlemency and Legilamancy can be performed without the use of a wand; mere eye contact is enough for the very proficient. However, to begin learning, proximity to a wand is often recommended. Since you are under age, it would be illegal for me to provide you with a wand…" He reached into his robes and removed two slender lengths of polished wood.

"However, I can take this moment to return your parents wands to their most trusted friend." He handed them over to Sirius, who took them with a reverent expression on his face.

"What he may choose to do with them, I shall not enquire." He pointedly looked up at the ceiling and hummed enough of Silent Night to give Arya time to choose which wand she wanted to use.

"I will add," he said, still looking at the ceiling, "that it is not necessary to hold the wand for this stage of training. Having one up a sleeve, for instance is often the preferred method."

When he looked back down from the ceiling, he could see the slight bulge from under Arya's sweater sleeve.

"Excellent. Some who teach these forms of magic prefer to put their students on the defensive immediately with an outright attack on the mind, but such methods have always seemed much too callus to me. We will begin instead with meditation."

Sirius yawned and abandoned the table in favor of the couch. Dumbledore continued speaking.

"Begin by concentrating on your breathing…" He began to count the correct timing of inhaling and exhaling. He saw her shoulders relax as she fell into the pattern of breath.

"Good, good. Now, continuing to breathe in that pattern, attempt to drain your mind of conscious thought… Feel yourself begin to float in the emptiness that is your mind, expelling new thoughts as the come to you… gently let them flow-"

The smooth sound of his voice and her steady breathing was interrupted by her violent sneeze, which was accompanied by sparks flying out of the concealed wand in her sleeve. She yelped in surprise, and Sirius leapt up from the couch to help beat out the flames on the table cloth that the sparks had caused.

Dumbledore sighed, but felt a smile tugging the corner of his mouth up. It had been a long time since he had taught, and he wasn't entirely sure how much he missed it.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N. **Here's a little something to aid in passing time; both between chapters, and in the story itself!

Thank you once again to everyone who reads this, and especially to those who take the time to leave a review at the end. I'm bad about responding to them, but I appreciate them very much!

Chapter 22

Sirius Orion Black often thought about time, which was usually thought of as a clear and steady path forward. Even Wizards, who knew of the existence of time turners, didn't seem to acknowledge that their linear concept of time was an incomplete picture of the reality.

Sirius knew that time didn't pass the same in some places as it did in others.

Time in Azkaban had been the strangest he'd ever experienced, passing in agonizing slowness, while simultaneously blurring into a suffocating sameness – one single moment that had stretched for years, and had lasted several lifetimes. That time came back to him still, on the bad nights, when he dreamt himself back into his cold cell. Those were the nights that had sent him to the kitchen liquor cabinet, before Remus had found him passed out at the table one morning, thankfully before Arya had woken for the day. Sirius had vanished the remaining bottles, and had not replaced them.

His time as a Hogwarts student sometimes felt so far away that he wasn't sure that it had ever actually happened, - and sometimes, when Arya smiled like James, or acted like Lily, it felt as if those times had come back again altogether.

Unlike his time in Azkaban, his new life with Arya and Remus was a series of endless and distinct moments. His head was clear, and his actions were intentional, - his life had purpose and he had the love of his family that he hadn't ever expected. Sometimes it felt as if no time at all had passed since he had been freed, since he had adopted Arya and moved in with Remus, - but time was moving, and it was moving fast.

Remus entered into his new position as the owner of the Daily Prophet after he had recovered from his transformation after Christmas, and had become increasingly busy with his new job for the first several months. The outrage that they had expected had erupted quickly, and Remus and Sirius had been forced to work furiously against the public uproar. Through Slughorn, Sirius had drummed up support at the Ministry to counter the small but furious sector that was actively attempting to suppress werewolf rights; Amelia Bones had come down on Sirius's side, and the laws that had been proposed to revoke Remus's right to his own company had been shot down.

Dumbledore spread his influence as well, and Remus remained the new owner of the Daily Prophet. Some predicted that the newspaper would be doomed to fail under the management of a werewolf, but they were proved wrong. Nothing makes people reach for a paper quicker than a scandal, and Remus had to deal with an increase in subscriptions, instead of a decline.

With legal action against werewolves stemmed on all fronts, some had taken other actions against him. Due to the security placed around the cottage, the hate mail was instead sent to Remus's new office. After a week of being harassed, Remus hired a private security wizard to sort his mail; the man had worked for magical law enforcement before retiring, and was happy for the part time work. Most letters were hateful but not truly dangerous, though some had nasty jinxes or potions hidden inside. The ones that sounded like serious threats were filed in case someone decided to actually act on them in the future, and the ones with nasty surprises in them were reported to the Ministry.

As it turned out, most people weren't smart enough to disguise their post properly, and the case files were handed over the Auror offices. Alastor Moody expressed an interest in pursuing the harassment and assault claims, and they thus ended up in the hands of Nymphradora Tonks. Moody wanted a way for his protégé to gain hands-on field experience, and Tonks was more than delighted to track down Remus's harassers and issue court order appearances like candy. The more they resisted, the more delighted she became; several of the more enthusiastic hate mailers were provoked into such a rage that charges of attacking a law enforcement officer were tacked on as well.

Tonks had noticed early on that the same people who were offended by werewolves also seemed to have a problem with metemorphmagi, and used this knowledge to her advantage often. Moody was content to hang back during the house calls, and watch with pride as his student issued the orders; she remained professionally poised throughout the ordeal, and let her appearance change just enough to incite the bigots into a hate-fueled rage. The more interesting episodes were reenacted with great enthusiasm for the benefit of Sirius, Remus, and Arya around the dinner table on evenings spent at the cottage after work.

As the months passed, things with the newspaper began to settle down, and Remus was able to make some real changes. Along with the suddenly better quality of news that it now published, the Daily Prophet was now offering a program for werewolves in need of jobs. Those inflicted with lycanthropy were offered positions based on their experience and talents, and provided with job training to promote advancements within the company. After the program first started, Remus had been disappointed by the lack of people coming forward; the first few weeks passed without a single applicant stepping up. But it had happened eventually, - and after the first few began, word began to spread that the offer was legitimate.

In conjunction with Remus's work program, he and Sirius began a foundation for the support of werewolves with families. Work opportunities were found, housing arranged, and grants given out to the families of werewolves who entered the workforce and training. There was still opposition coming from both wizarding society and from the werewolf colonies that had turned their backs on the world that had persecuted them. It was hard to tell some days which of the factions posed a greater threat, and Remus was grateful that his home had the highest protection possible.

During the spring that year, Lucius Malfoy announced his campaign to run for Hogwarts Governor, with all the confidence and conceit that declared that he had already bought and threatened his way into the position. The Daily Prophet ran an article written by Rita Skeeter the very next day about the alleged former Death Eater who wanted a position close to vulnerable school children, and Sirius reached out to those who had been threatened with an offer of support, backed up by the department of magical law enforcement. Amelia Bones received an anonymous tip off about those who had accepted bribes by Malfoy, and Sirius gave Kreacher several priceless Black family heirlooms to decorate his den with.

The very next week Sirius announced his own bid for School Governor, and the Daily Prophet ran a very favorable article in his support. Slughorn leaned lightly on those who owed him favors, and Sirius won the vote that May in an absolute landslide.

With all the progress and changes taking place around him, Sirius felt that Arya was changing the most, and causing the most change around her as well. Her transformation was unending, beginning as she had left the Dursleys, and continuing everyday afterward. Sirius hadn't had experience with children; he'd been little more than a child himself before being thrown in prison, and unlike James he hadn't been planning on having kids of his own. He now saw that though adults tended to be static if left on their own, it was impossible to be unchanged while raising children.

Arya was constantly growing, both physically and otherwise. In just the year she had been living with him, she had grown inches in height, and though she had a huge appetite she still looked a bit like a stretched piece of taffy. She continued to learn everything she could get her hands on; the wonder of finding out about the magical world had never faded with her, and she was determined to know everything she could. Nothing she did was ever half-hearted; she had recovered from her life with the Dursleys with insurmountable determination, and everything she did thereafter was full force. When she wanted to learn something, she tackled it with everything she had; Dumbledore was particularly impressed with her progress in their occlemency lessons.

The last remnants of her reserved behavior had melted away from her over the months, and her full character had emerged, untarnished by years of neglect. She was simultaneously James, Lily, and something all of her own.

Sirius knew that she brought life and light into his life, and Remus's. He suspected that her effect was more widespread than just the two of them though; Dumbledore had finally found a student that was both good at heart, and brilliant. He had taken to her immediately, and Sirius could tell despite the old man's naturally reserved nature that he was genuinely fond of her.

When they went on visits to the Weasleys, Arya disappeared into the throng of red haired children, and became almost indistinguishable from a distance. Ginny and Ron had become her fast friends, and Molly had told him while the kids were out playing what an effect Arya had made on the two of them. Ron and Ginny as the youngest of seven had always been closer to each other than to the others, but Arya as a common friend added a buffer between the out-breaks of sibling rivalry that the two had often faced.

Ginny had always been as wild as any of her brothers, perhaps surpassing several of them with her extreme amount of energy and playfulness. Ginny had taught Arya how to play and be a kid again, something that Arya had desperately needed to learn after her life with her aunt and uncle. Arya, in turn, influenced Ginny with her enthusiasm and fascination with learning everything about magic. Since Ginny had been born into a magic family, magic itself had become a normal thing, and though she was very intelligent, she hadn't ever steered her mind to learning; that was what Hogwarts was for. But Arya's enthusiasm was a hard thing to resist, and Ginny was soon drawn in to her studies as well; both girls were dead set on becoming animagi, though Molly had outright forbidden Ginny from even considering it.

Ron, who's only experience with the opposite gender was his mother and his sister, suddenly found that his best friend was a girl as well. Once he had learned to shrug off his brothers teasing, he finally admitted to himself that girls were probably not actually much different than boys. He would never have any idea how helpful his early shedding of previous misconceptions would be in his teenage years. Since his best friend was a girl, he could no longer merely shrug his shoulders or roll his eyes if she did something he didn't understand, as he had so often done with his sister, and chocked her behavior up to 'some weird girl thing.' Instead he was forced to communicate, and Ginny confided to Arya later that he was much improved for the effort.

The most changed of the children, however, wasn't a Weasley. Neville Longbottom remained shy and soft spoken around adults, but like Arya, he was learning how to be a kid. When Sirius had first met the boy, he had thought that he seemed like an old man, trapped into childhood, and unsure how to interact with other children. Seeing the boy run and play with his friends lightened Sirius's heart, and listening to Augusta lecture with pride about his newly appearing bursts of magic was also heartening. The relationship between Neville and his Gran seemed to have eased a little bit, though she was still a stern, intimidating type of person. Sirius wasn't sure what had caused the change, but he was glad to see it; Frank and Alice had never planned on raising their child with the same type of pure-blood aristocratic rules as they had grown up with. Old wizarding society could be a stifling place for a child, as Sirius knew well.

Amidst the rush of time, Sirius made sure to stop and reflect on all the moments as they sped by, made all the more precious in comparison to the slow drag of time that had been his existence in Azkaban. His time there had given him a perspective on life that most would never know; he had learned to appreciate the raw beauty of being alive, fully and un-muffled. He couldn't stop the moments from slipping by, but he could make sure to hold still long enough to fully take them in. He never wanted to get so caught up that he would one day realize that his life was behind him, and that he hadn't appreciated it enough.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Quite a large time jump in this one! That is more likely to happen from now until Hogwarts, since time needs to get a move on in this story. **

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Let me know what you think of this one if you have the time, I hope you enjoy it.**

Chapter

August 11

Sirius and Arya arrived at the Burrow late in the morning for Ginny Weasley's eighth birthday party, and the sun was hanging low in the sky by the time Arya was ready to leave in the evening. Sirius may have been ready hours earlier, but he didn't have the heart to drag his nine year old daughter away from her friends before the party had entirely wrapped up. Besides, he figured that Remus would prefer some peace and quiet during the day, considering that tonight was the full moon.

Seeing Arya next to Ron Weasley, Sirius had been surprised to notice that she had caught up in height with the boy, - a fact that Ginny seemed none too happy about. The younger girl seemed to find it blatantly unfair that she was the youngest _and_ the shortest by almost an entire head. The Longbottom boy wasn't quite as tall as the other two, but Sirius suspected that he might hit his growth spurt later in life, like his father had.

The four of them spent the entire day in each-others company, and with the rest of the Weasley's school aged children home for the summer, plus the various adults invited, the Burrow was in a constant state of frenzy from the beginning to the end. It was with an obvious air of relief that Molly began to usher her children off to their various chores, and the guests stood from the table to head home for the night. The kids were too tired from a rambunctious day to put up much of a fuss, and Arya was convinced to put on her helmet and motorcycle jacket with minimal pouting involved. Floo or apperation would have been faster, but long summer days were made for motorcycle rides.

Arthur had been itching to get his hands on the bike ever since Sirius had showed it to him, but Sirius had been reluctant to let him at it, though several of his ideas were rather interesting. For the time being he left it as it had been, and set out from the Burrow on the road instead of through the air. Arya had packed a back-pack with over-night supplies, because Sirius was driving them to his cousin's house instead of to the cottage; he would leave the bike and Arya there, and return for both in the morning after getting Remus taken care of.

Tonks was going to be there as the official babysitter, though it was at her parent's house instead of her flat in London. As she put it, her flat was in constant danger of coming under attack by a 'crazy-eyed mad old hatter', and that was no environment for a kid. Sirius thought that her actual reason for not having Arya over was probably because she never had any food on the premise, or at least none that would be safe to feed a guest.

Tonks came out to say hi as they pulled to a stop in front of the house, and invited him in to visit for a while, but Sirius waved her off. He had to get home in time to make sure that Remus drank his last dose of Wolfsbane potion before the moon came up. He picked Arya up for a huge bear hug, messed up her already tangled hair, and gave Tonks a clap on the back before spinning in place and disappearing with a loud crack.

Tonks wrapped an arm around Arya's shoulders and steered her into the house and then straight out the back door again. Ted and Andromeda had a patio extending into their backyard, complete with table, chairs, and a muggle style grill that Ted lovingly called his second child, and the couple was seated outside sipping iced drinks in the late day sun. Ted poured her a lemonade with a friendly greeting, and Andromeda clucked disapprovingly before taking out her wand and rectifying Arya's snarled, sweaty helmet hair. Remus often said that the Potter hair was immune to magic, and Tonks grinned as her mother's normally flawless charms failed to fully tame the red tangles. Andromeda was forced to be satisfied with half-tamed hair, and didn't find it terribly funny when she looked up to find that her own daughter had morphed her hair into a similarly messy length of red tangles.

The patio opened into the back gardens, and a length of grassy lawn that led to a wooded area that was dense with leaves and brush in the late summer. Ted made them all dinner on the grill (no magic allowed!), and Arya was able to enjoy her visit with her extended family, even though she worried for Remus as the sun sank ever lower in the sky.

Tonks felt old as she watched Arya scamper away after dinner was over, feeling every muscle she had worked during the day, and every place on her body she had hit the ground with or taken a hit on during training. She groaned, and rubbed a hand over her overly full stomach before standing up to follow the young girl out into the yard, morphing herself a slightly more muscled body as she went, and smothering a yawn.

Arya had a wildly inventive imagination, and the woods were a good place to play; Tonks had spent hours on end there as a child, climbing trees and playing games of make-believe.

For Arya, Tonks was the ideal participant in her stories and games because she changed her appearance to fit the characters that Arya made up, and had fun acting out her parts. Tonks thought that chasing the energetic nine year old through the woods ought to count as extra credit for her job training.

Tonks stuffed her wand into her back pocket, against the express advice of her mentor, and prepared herself for an evening of play. She had assumed that Arya would be at least a little tired after the birthday party, but she had been wrong; if anything, she seemed even more riled up than normal.

They had been outside over an hour, and had progressed from reenacting an old historic wizarding battle that Arya had read about, to improvising Dumbledore's defeat of the dark wizard Grindewald. The sun crept below the horizon, and Tonks conjured floating lights that hung above the clearing where their duel was taking place, using branches from a tree in place of wands. Arya had called dibs on being Dumbledore, and Tonks had morphed her face into an approximation of what Grindewald might look like, which included short ginger hair and a large amount of blond facial hair. She would be the first to admit that she hadn't the foggiest idea what the man had looked like, but for the point of the game it didn't seem to matter. Both participants were aware that the man wouldn't have been wearing a Weird Sisters tee-shirt in any case, so a stretch of the imagination was necessary.

Tonks was starting to slow down, worn out by her day of auror training and Arya-sitting, but she was noticing hopeful signs that Arya was getting tired as well. She figured that the best way to stop either of them from worrying about Remus was to get as exhausted as possible, so she had let them continue on longer than she might have normally. She was sure that by the time they were through, Arya would be asleep as soon as she made it out of a shower and into bed, - she knew she would be.

They were at the part of the game where Tonks was supposed to be running away and trying to hide in the trees with Arya in hot pursuit. She wasn't an Auror in training for nothing though, and it looked like this time around, Grindewald might actually be able to make his escape. She sighed and leaned against and old oak tree in relief, using her tree-branch wand to scratch at her beard. How did men stand the things? They itched like hell, especially with a sweaty face.

She heard the rustling sound of something heavy moving toward her through the woods on her right, and spun to face her opponent, holding her branch in the proper dueling position. And out of the darkening woods came something that was definitely _not_ Arya Potter.

Huge in size and covered with matted, dark gray fur, a fully grown werewolf had emerged from the underbrush, and was advancing toward her slowly, sniffing the air as it came.

Something inside of Tonks was screaming for her to act, to move, to fight, or run, or anything that wasn't just standing there, frozen in shock and fear. Absurdly, her mind began instead to list the identifying marks of a werewolf, as if she was sitting her OWL's, not standing face to face with one in a dimly lit forest.

The werewolf raised its head and observed her with an eerily intelligent look. Its muzzle pulled back from its teeth in an almost silent snarl, and Arya's piercing shriek jolted Tonks out of her dazed stupefaction. Arya had crept up on Tonks in the seconds she had stood frozen, and had rounded the giant oak to the view of an approaching werewolf.

Tonks' brain kicked back into gear, and she let her year of training guide her instincts as she moved, one thought prominent in her mind; protect Arya.

She dove in front of the girl as the werewolf began to move toward her instead, and flung the pitiful branch-wand in its face as she moved, hitting it across the eyes and buying her enough time to shove Arya backward.

"RUN!"

Arya had been frozen stock still, just as she had been, but the shove broke through her panic enough to send her stumbling backward. Tonks cursed in a furious stream under her breath, pulling her wand from her back pocket as the beast shook its head in agitation, and then continued to advance. Tonks didn't hear the sound of Arya running, and fear had her heart in a vice grip. She couldn't let it get to her.

Fighting magical creatures was covered in her job training, but with werewolves there was a moral dilemma as well; could she really kill something that would turn back into a person come daylight, confused and innocent of any ill intent? On the other hand, holding back in a fight against one could easily result in contamination or death. For Tonks, with Arya depending on her for protection, the choice wasn't difficult to make, even if it would be difficult to live with later.

When she raised her wand and began to cast, she fought to kill.

Arya POV

Tonks' shout for her to run reverberated through the woods, and Arya stumbled backward from her shove, retreating a few yards into the forest. She should run, but her eyes were glued to the hulking form in front of her, the only thing standing between them a slight woman wearing a hot pink shirt and sporting a bushy beard. If the both of them survived the encounter, she'd have a story to tell for the rest of her life.

Barely a second passed before the creature was advancing again, and then Tonks began to move, and the forest began to erupt.

Arya's foot caught on a root as she backed up, and she ended up on the ground looking up at the fight taking place before her, too stunned to do anything else. Her mouth fell open in astonishment; Tonks was amazing.

Arya had read that many spells were virtually ineffective against the hide of a werewolf, thus making them incredibly hard to fight; spells that worked on humans didn't work the same on animals, and wizards fighting against them were limited to spells that caused physical damage to its body. But Tonks wasn't casting at the wolf; she was casting at everything around it.

The trees, vines, and the very floor of the forest came to life, lashing, hitting, and wrapping around the creature as it snarled and reared onto its hind-legs, attempting to slash at Tonks with its powerful front legs, claws extended. Tonks was being forced backward toward Arya as it pushed through her transfigured defenses, and Arya scrambled backward on all fours, trying to keep the distance between herself and the fight as wide as possible.

Tonks shot a glance back at her, and took a hit from a paw to her left arm; she wheeled back around and set her legs differently, bracing herself in a posture that clearly stated that she wouldn't be giving another inch of ground.

Arya had read that if werewolves were faced with too strong of an opposition, they were likely to retreat in search of easier prey. This one, however, was not backing down. Its eyes were filled with rage, and it was attacking Tonks with everything it had.

Flashes of light began to mix in with the seething forest, and a gash appeared down the chest of the wolf; it howled, rearing back again in preparation to lunge forward; if it got through, it was in range close enough to sink its teeth into Tonks' neck. Arya screamed again, but Tonks moved forward in a lunge of her own, and swept her wand down in a broad stroke like a sword.

There was a streak of deep violet through the air, and blood sprayed across Arya's face in a hot line; Tonks's curse had severed the neck of the werewolf, tearing through hide and veins and spine. The body of the giant creature toppled over backward, its head still attached by sinew, but horribly twisted around and mangled. Tonks stood over it, her wand still raised in front over her, as if she expected it to get back up and attack them again. The entire fight had lasted only seconds.

Arya drew a shuddering breath that she hadn't realized she was holding, rolled onto her stomach, pushed herself onto all fours, and retched noisily onto the forest floor. The sound of her bringing up her dinner roused Tonks back into action; she was kneeling at her side in a moment, laying a hand on her back and asking if she had been hurt.

Arya just shook her head, and used the back of her hand to wipe the sick from around her mouth. Her hand came away streaked with red, and she suddenly remembered that Tonks had been clawed on the arm. She pushed herself upright, and got a better look at her friend.

Tonks's sleeve was ripped in three jagged lines, and blood was seeping down her arm and dripping from her hand. Since Tonks hadn't seemed to notice her own injury, Arya pointed it out to her. Tonks started in surprise, and pointed her wand at the cuts; nothing seemed to happen. She cursed under her breath, and conjured a tight bandage around the wound instead.

"We need to get to St. Mungos, and contact the Aurors." Her voice was strained, but otherwise she was doing a good job of keeping it together. "Aurors first, I think, if you're sure you're not hurt?"

Arya shook her head, but Tonks performed a diagnostic test anyway, before nodding in satisfaction and turning away to summon help. Arya recognized the silvery white mist that shot out of Tonks's wand as a patronous, and knew that it would bring Tonks's message to whomever she had sent it to.

Arya couldn't help looking past Tonks to the body of the werewolf, and she couldn't help the whimper that escaped her as she saw what was happening to it; it was slowly but surely shrinking and changing- t was turning back into a man as she watched.

Tonks turned to see what had caused the noise, and clapped a hand over Arya's eyes when she realized what was happening. Arya could feel her shaking as she turned her away from the gruesome body.

Tonks sent another silver streak of light toward the house, and Andromeda and Ted arrived at about the same time as another man Apparated next to them. From Tonks's descriptions and impersonations, Arya knew that it was her mentor, Mad Eye Moody. The next few moments were utter chaos, which ended only when Andromeda calmed down enough to realized that Arya should be removed from the immediate scene of the attack, and Arya barely had time to register what was happening before she was led off back to the house to get cleaned up, and triple checked for injuries.

Tonks POV

Tonks felt some of the weight leave her shoulders as her mother led Arya back to the house. Andromeda would make sure she was taken care of; she had managed all the trouble Tonks had gotten into as a child like a hero. She would know what to do to care for her better than Tonks did.

Moody had stumped over to stand by the body after casting enough charms to determine that there was no other danger present, which was something Tonks wished she had thought of herself. Her heart was still beating too fast, and her head felt a bit light, so she supposed that she was lucky just to have survived and avoid being bitten. A claw wound would resist healing, but it wouldn't contaminate her. She made her way over to her teacher, and forced herself to look down at the gory body of the man she had killed.

Her stomach churned at the sight of his twisted and severed head, but it wasn't the violence of the sight that made her start back in surprise, - it was the fact that she recognized him. Even with the blood soaked features, it was impossible to mistake the matted long brown hair, and scarred face of the infamous criminal Fenrir Greyback.

Moody looked over at her when she gasped, and she thought that she actually saw him grin through the dim lighting and his own scarred features.

"Nice work, trainee Tonks." It was a rare compliment, and Tonks wasn't sure that it was appropriate considering the gravity of the situation, but she accepted it all the same.

Mostly all she could feel, through the pain building in her arm, was absolute relief. This was not an innocent person that had wandered into the wrong place; this was a monster that targeted his victims with great care. She might have laughed; she felt such a wave of thankfulness flash through her, she knew she must be giddy from the blood loss. Her father was insisting that they take her to the hospital, and she didn't have the strength or inclination to resist when Moody dragged her good arm around his shoulders and side-alonged her to St. Mungos.

She was rushed by the team of healers that were on stand-by for auror emergencies, and was only slightly aware of Moody stumping along beside her as she was led down to a ward for healing. One of the healers shoved a bottle in her face, and she gulped the contents, recognizing the taste of a blood replenishing potion. Her head cleared almost immediately, and with it came the full pain in her arm. She gritted her teeth together as she sat back against the hospital bed they had led her too, and a bottle of pain reliever was next in line, which she gulped in one go.

Pain relief potions left her with a different type of light headedness than blood loss; her head was a bit clearer, but everything seemed to be a bit comical. Moody, for instance, was usually quite a bit less than funny, but today he seemed quite silly. He was certainly giving her a funny look, anyway.

"What?" She finally slurred, and he raised the eyebrow above his normal eye at her.

"The werewolf fight I understand, trainee, but what the ruddy hell is with the beard? You trying to intimidate the beast with a pelt of your own?"

Tonks felt her eyes widen in surprise, and her hand sprang to her face to feel the large bushy beard that was still sprouting from her chin and cheeks. She had actually managed to forget about the scratchy, itchy, ugly thing. Now _that_ was funny.

Through her slightly hysterical giggles, she tried to explain that she was supposed to be Grindewald, which only served to make Moody insist that the healers check her for head injuries before treating the cuts. He actually looked quite concerned for her, and just like that, her hysterical giggles turned into full blown crying, on the shoulder of Mad Eye Moody, no less. He patted her reassuringly on the back, but seemed very relieved when her dad showed up to take over comforting her.

For her part, Tonks was just glad that she had waited until after the important part was over to have a break down.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N. Here's a short one to follow up that last exciting chapter! **

**I've realized recently how a little bit of negativity from just one person can serve to shed new light and appreciation on the things that are positive and good, and it's made me appreciate all of you who have been supportive and kind with your feedback and reviews. You are the daily inspiration that keeps me writing this story; thank you, thank you, thank you.**

Chapter 24

The Aftermath

It was several hours before the healers of St. Mungos pronounced Tonks fit to be released from their care, and she was informed that it would be several days before the cuts on her arm healed closed entirely. They gave her instructions on how to care for them and several bottles of potions to take home with her to aid in the healing. They warned her that they were likely to leave significant scarring, but Tonks knew that once they healed her morphing abilities would hide the damage.

Moody had taken her statement and a vial of her memory of the attack, and gone to the Ministry to make an official report. Her father stayed for the entire duration, and a patronous had arrived from her mom, informing them that Arya had been calmed down, cleaned up, and had finally fallen asleep in the late hours of the night. Tonks felt like someone should be attempting to contact Sirius about the situation, but the rational side of her knew why that was impossible tonight. One werewolf attack was quite enough for one life time, thank you very much.

The last of the healers finished giving her their instructions, set her a follow up appointment for the coming week, and then she was finally free to go. She felt tired, but infinitely better than she had coming in; there was a soothing potion of some kind that they had layered between her arm and the bandage, and she had recovered from both her blood loss, and the pain relieving potion side effects. Now that her head was no longer trying to float away in a cloud of fuzziness, and she no longer found everything around her hysterically funny or hysterically upsetting, her head was instead filled with questions.

Namely, - what the bloody hell had the most infamous werewolf of the century been doing in her backyard, and how had he gotten past her mother's wards?

Tonks was exhausted now that the adrenaline had worn off, but her racing and muddied mind still thought it knew the answer to that first question. Fenrir Greyback was known for targeting the loved ones of those who opposed or offended him, and children were his prey of choice. Tonks knew in her gut that Arya, not herself, had been the intended target of his attack; the thought of how differently things might have gone made her feel sicker than anything that had actually happened to her.

Remus Lupin's father had defied Greyback and Remus had been bitten within a year, at the young age of five. Now Remus had set himself against his childhood attacker by making a life inside of wizarding society possible to others with his affliction; Greyback and his followers disdained and reviled werewolves who attempted to integrate with wizarding society. In Greyback's opinion the only thing worse than wizards was a werewolf who thought he could be one of them. While Remus had been a solitary werewolf living amongst wizards he hadn't been seen as important enough to target, but things were different now.

Sirius and Remus had taken precautions with safety since the day Arya had come to live with them; the property was protected by the fidilious charm, and she was never alone outside the perimeter of the cottage property. The Burrow had even been given wards by Dumbledore himself when Arya had begun spending so much time with the two youngest Weasleys. Tonks knew for certain that her mother had her house warded as well; and yet she had been attacked at her childhood home where she felt the safest. Now that she was thinking about it she realized that not only had Greyback gotten in, Moody had apparrated directly in as well. He definitely hadn't been keyed into the protection; Tonks had been adamant that he not be able to stage one of his ambushes there.

Ted walked her to the apparition point located to one side of the hospital lobby, and she accepted his offer to side-along her home. She didn't trust herself not to splinch in her current state of agitated exhaustion, so she griped her dads arm in a tight hold and they appeared moments later outside the front steps to the house. Andromeda must have been waiting anxiously for them, because the door swung open barely a second after their arrival.

Tonks normally prided herself on her independence and strength, but after the night she'd just had her previous attitude seemed aloof and unnecessary. She'd just been forced to partially decapitate a werewolf, and now she was in serious need of some mothering.

Andromeda Tonks was a tall, fierce, and beautifully intimidating woman; Tonks was one of the few people that new she was also the best at giving hugs. Tonks stepped forward tiredly and let her mom fold her into a hug, resting her head on her shoulder and breathing in her familiar smell.

"Oh Dora…"

Andromeda held her for a long moment before steering her into the drawing room, depositing her on the couch, and pressing a hot cup of chocolate into her hand. Tonks smiled at the familiar situation; this was how Andromeda had always taken care of her when she was little and had been hurt or upset. No doubt Arya had gotten similar treatment earlier.

Tonks stretched her legs out on the couch and took a sip of her drink, sighing in gratitude as she felt the sweet liquid warm her throat and stomach. Andromeda sat down and placed Tonks's feet in her lap, removing her shoes and rubbing her feet. Foot rubs were a weird family tradition, but Tonks thought they was awesome. She felt the last of the tension finally drain from between her shoulder blades, and rested her head back on the arm rest.

"I love you mom."

Andromeda smiled and tickled her toes.

"I love you too, Sweetheart. Moody came by before you got home, you just missed him. We inspected the wards, after Arya was asleep."

Tonks cracked and eyelid to look at her mother's face, which was characteristically stern, but had a trace of guilt on it as well.

"They'd been breached along the west side of the property. It's my fault; I've gotten so complacent since the end of the war, and now this…" Her voice wavered and caught, and Ted sat down next to his wife to put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "If they had been wiped out entirely I'd have been alerted, but it was just along that side. Moody said that it must have been done days ago, that this had probably been planned weeks in advance."

Tonks sat up and set her cup on the floor, then leaned forward to wrap both arms around her from the other side. She wasn't used to comforting her mother, since it was usually the other way around.

Andromeda accepted the comfort of her husband and daughter for a few moments, and then gently extracted herself from their embraces.

"Alright, you two. Time for bed, I think. We'll deal with the rest in the morning."

Although Tonks had been cleaned of the worst of the grime by the healers scurgifying spells, she headed for the shower before bed. She was starting to feel weak from the tiredness, but she was also sweaty and tense. Hot water was worth the extra time before sleep.

She bundled her ripped shirt straight into the bin, and leaned on the counter in front of the mirror for a moment, staring at her disheveled reflection. She had morphed back to her normal face at the hospital thankfully lacking in facial hair, and her hair had turned to a mousy type of brown. She scrunched up her face in dissatisfaction and turned her hair lime green, as if in defiance of her crummy and tired mood.

She felt marginally better after scrubbing off the last of the night, and changed into her oversized cotton shirt and comfiest p.j bottoms. She paused on the way down the hall to her room, and cracked open the door to the guest room instead. The light from the full moon illuminated Arya's sleeping form, small looking against the large bed. Tonks leaned against the door frame and took deep comforting breaths. She was safe.

The light was on in her old room when she arrived, and Andromeda was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Tonks's old stuffed hippogryph on her lap. It was just like her to send everyone off the bed and then stay up herself.

"Mom, you need to get some rest too, you know."

"I know, I'm just not sure I'll be able to get to sleep tonight. We almost lost you tonight, didn't we?"

Tonks sank onto the bed and drew the covers up to her chin.

"It was closer than I would have liked." She admitted. "I need to get better."

Someone else might have argued with her, told her that she'd done fine, and not to question her ability.

Andromeda simply nodded.

"Then you will."

It wasn't a question. She leaned down and kissed her on the temple, tucking the stuffed hypogriff under daughters arm. She turned the light out on the way out, but lingered in the doorway for a moment.

"By the way dear, I was interested to see your patronous. You didn't tell me it had changed."

She didn't wait for a response, but quietly closed the door and retreated down the hall to her and Ted's room.

Tonks felt her eyebrows come together in confusion. Her patronous had changed?

She felt around for her wand, pulled it out from underneath her wet towel, sat up in bed, and dredged up the last of her energy to summon her happiest memories. Silver light shot from her wand and coalesced into a giant, softly glowing creature.

Tonks's breath caught in her throat. Where she had expected her sphinx was instead a werewolf; its coat was shorter than that of the one she had fought, and it was standing on all fours instead of in an aggressive posture. It loped silently up to the edge of the bed, and moved its head toward her as if to sniff her still outstretched wand hand. Its eyes were the most significant difference from the beast she had faced earlier; they were keenly intelligent, expressive, and kind.

"Remus?"

Her voice was a barely audible whisper.

The werewolf lowered its head in what looked like acknowledgment, and then it was gone, leaving Tonks in the darkness with her hand still held out in front of her.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N. Last in this sequence of werewolf drama! **

**As an aside, I thought I'd address my two most often asked questions; which house will Arya be in, and who will I pair her with romantically? I've avoided answering both, but I feel like I can put some of you at ease with at least telling you that Arya will not be in Slytherin. She is ambitious, but it just wouldn't be a good fit.**

**As for the second question, I'm still not going to answer it, but yes I do know who she will end up with. Any romance will be ages off for her anyway, and it will be a slow burn. **

**Lastly, I've been overwhelmed with gratitude over the last few days by the outpouring of support from all of you; one bad review feels like a knife twisting in my gut, and then all the support and encouragement that pours in reminds me that the vast majority of people are actually awesome. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, you are truly wonderful. **

**Enjoy! **

Chapter 25

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Arya awoke the next morning just as the sun was creeping over the horizon and the birds were beginning their songs outside her guest bedroom window. She was _tired. _She squeezed her eyes closed again in an attempt to block out the light and go back to sleep, but it was no good. The sun was up, the birds were singing, and Arya Potter's brain was unwillingly beginning to swing back into action.

She had really wanted to stay awake until Tonks made it home last night, but Andromeda had dissuaded her. She'd been checked over for injuries yet again before she had been able to shower, and then Andromeda had given her a nice hot cup of coco and sat with her until she was calm and able to talk about the attack.

In the confusion of the aftermath Andromeda hadn't gotten the full story from Tonks before she had been obligated to take Arya back to the house. She'd clenched her hands in her lap until they were white knuckled with tension, but her face had remained impressively calm while Arya told the story. Talking about it had helped Arya calm down and sort out her feelings, and though she wished that Sirius was there, she admitted to herself that Andromeda was a comforting presence. The usually stern woman had even given her a warm hug and tucked her into bed after she had finished her drink. It was a very motherly action, and Arya felt her eyes burn a bit from the emotion of it.

She had planned to lay awake and listen for the sound of Tonks coming back, but her attempts to stay conscious proved futile. She had been laying there worrying about Tonks and fighting to keep her eyes open, and the next thing she knew she was waking up to the early dawn light. Back at the cottage, Sirius would just be getting Remus inside and taken care of for his long day of rest and recovery. After he got Remus settled, he generally took a few hours of rest himself before coming to pick her up later in the morning.

Arya sighed, giving up on more sleep, and silently crawled out from under the covers to tiptoe down the hallway to Tonks' room. She eased the door open enough to stick her head through, and sighed in relief when she saw that Tonks had indeed made it home from the hospital while she had been asleep. She had gotten rid of the ridiculous Grindelwald beard, and turned her hair a bright green. Arya could also see that her arm was still wrapped in a tight bandage; the healers must not have been able fix the cuts entirely.

Arya hesitated for a moment before she pushed open the door and slipped into the room, padding over to the bed and slipping in under the covers. There was a rather bedraggled looking stuffed hippogriff lying there, so Arya wrapped her arms around it like a pillow, and curled up next to Tonks. She felt the need to reassure herself that Tonks was really okay; she had never been as scared in her life as she had been last night. She also felt incredible stupid for freezing up; she should have run, or tried to help or _something_ besides falling over backwards and screaming a lot. Tonks could have died, and Arya had just sat there.

She felt tears of shame burn her eyes, and she buried her face in the stuffed hippogriff's feathers. She felt the bed shift, and peeked out to see that Tonks had rolled over, and was now facing her on the bed with her eyes cracked at least half open.

"Wotcher, Arya."

Her voice was scratchy from sleep, but otherwise she seemed fine.

"Morning, Tonks." She managed, her voice sounding small and quivery in her ears.

"Hey, what's the matter Kiddo?" She reached her un-damaged arm over and rustled her hair.

Arya ducked her head back into the stuffed animal and spoke into it instead, her voice coming out muffled.

"I should've helped! I just froze up… you could have died, I'm so sorry…" She hated that she sounded so pathetic.

Tonks sat up in bed, and rubbed Arya's shoulders in a soothing gesture.

"Arya, sweetheart, Girl Genius Extraordinaire; you are _nine years old._ You don't have a wand, let alone know how to use one. If you aren't twice as good as me by the time your my age, I'll eat my robe."

Arya snorted into the hippogriff at the mental image, and then brought her head up as she considered Tonks's words. She couldn't help that she still felt as if she should have done something, but she also realized that Tonks was right. What could she have done except get in the way?

"I should have at least run, like you told me to do."

"Well, yeah, for future notice running might be good. But then again, if there had been more than one attacker, sticking close would have been the right thing to do… I don't know, Arya; sometimes there are no good options, and everything happens so fast. No one got seriously hurt though, so no beating yourself up about it, okay?"

Arya nodded, but something Tonks had said didn't sound entirely accurate.

"We're okay… But that man is dead, isn't he?" Her voice was quiet. What she had seen when she had looked up from being sick had disturbed her in a different way than the fight had. Tonks had been battling a monster, but that body on the ground had been a man.

Tonks bit her lip.

"Yeah. Yeah, he was. He wasn't like Remus though, Arya. His name was Fenrir Greyback, and he was a murderer; he was there intentionally to try to harm us. He wasn't like most werewolves, who try to keep themselves away from people during full moons."

Arya was relieved to hear it, because she had been worrying that he had just been a normal man who hadn't been aware of his condition, wandering into the wrong place at the wrong time, and unable to control it. What had happened was still awful, but if it was like Tonks had said, than she wasn't going to feel too bad about it.

Tonks explained her theory about why they were targeted, and a bit about Greyback's history. By the time she was done, Arya was feeling a bit glad that he was dead. He was the reason Remus had to suffer every month!

They both drifted off to sleep again, and were woken up by Andromeda for breakfast not too long afterward.

Everyone was dressed and seated at the kitchen table, digging into a breakfast of hash-browns and eggs by the time that Sirius arrived through the floo. He looked tired, as he always did after a full moon, but it was obvious that he'd at least taken the time to shower and nap before coming over.

Arya leapt up from her seat and tackled him with a bear hug; she wasn't sure if she'd ever been as happy to see someone as she was to see him at the moment.

"Woah there, kiddo! Good to see you too." He laughed, and when she didn't let him go he simply carried her back over to the table. "What happened to you lot, you all look as if you haven't slept a wink. She wasn't that much trouble was she?"

He spoke jokingly, but his smile faded when Arya simply clung a bit tighter, and no one at the table had a ready reply; his eye's moved to the large bandage wrapping Tonks's arm.

Ted filled a plate for Sirius and gestured for him to sit down as he spoke.

"Sit down and have some breakfast with us, Sirius. We had a bit of an incident last night, but everything's fine. We'll fill you in while you eat."

Arya finally released her hold on him in favor of her waiting breakfast, and Sirius was able to sit in the vacant chair across from Tonks. He reached forward and drew her arm across the table toward him, examining the bandages. She swatted him away when he tried to peak under the covering, but he must have gotten a glimpse of one of the raised, angry red cuts that the healers hadn't managed to reduce, because he paled slightly as he looked back up at her.

"What happened to you? If Moody accidently did this in one of his practices, I'll ring his stumpy neck."

Tonks was shaking her head. "No, of course it wasn't Mad-eye, he's got much better control than that; you know that, Sirius. We had a breach in the wards last night along the wooded side of the property…"

She trailed off, and stabbed at her hash-browns savagely, looking grim. Arya picked up where she left off, albeit in a much more circumspect and straight forward manner.

"Tonks and I were playing in the woods, and this huge werewolf showed up and attacked us, and Tonks had to kill it, which I felt really bad about; but Tonks says it was the same werewolf that bit Remus on purpose, so I don't feel bad anymore."

The remaining color in Sirius's face drained away and he seemed momentarily lost for words – a fact that Tonks took advantage of to fill in a few details.

"We think he broke through to wards in advance, knowing Arya wood be nearby on the full moon. She's the closest thing Remus has to family, and we know how angry his programs have been making the feral packs."

"Merlin, Tonks, your arm… did he-?"

"Oh! No, no I haven't been bitten. Got swiped by the claws, the healers say they'll close up in a few days. It's nothing."

Sirius let out a breath he'd been holding. "Not nothing, but better than it could have been… One werewolf to keep track of on the full moon is quite enough for me. Merlin, if you hadn't been out there with her… I'm never, ever going to be able to repay you for this, Tonks."

She shook her head, blushing slightly. Sirius looked rather ashen in the face, but was recovering from the shock decently well, now that he had ascertained that she hadn't been bitten. He was also looking at her with a slight expression of awe.

"You took out Fenrir Greyback. How old are you again? Merlin, wait until Remus hears about this."

Tonks bushed even more, and ignored the rather knowing look that her mother was giving her.

"We need to put up better wards if Arya's going to continue staying here, Andromeda."

"I know, Sirius. Moody is coming by today to help Dora and I put up new ones. We won't have a repeat of this kind of incident."

Sirius made Tonks promise to come by the cottage for dinner, after Remus had a chance to sleep off the worst of his recovery. They'd need to fill him in before he went to work the next day, and Sirius figured that it would be best for him to see with his own eyes that Tonks was alive and reasonably unhurt. She agreed, and Sirius gave her a bone crunching hug as he and Arya prepared to depart through the floo.

"I think you've been promoted to my favorite relative, Tonks." He said, giving her another squeeze. "Sorry Dromeda."

Andromeda smiled. "No offense taken, Sirius; she'd my favorite relative too."

"Touché."

Remus was asleep when they arrived home, and it wasn't long before Arya's late night caught up with her, and she settled down on the couch for a nap. Sirius sat down by her head as she lay down, and made her tell him the full story of the night before.

So Arya told him about the games in the woods, and how she had come around the tree to see the werewolf coming at Tonks, and then at her instead. She described the fight as best she could, and about how the body had turned back into a man after it was dead. After that she couldn't really tell him much more about it, since she had been whisked away from the activity.

Sirius was horrified that she had witnessed such a brutal scene, but mostly he was thinking that he was going to have to do something extremely nice for Tonks someday soon. He was also thinking that he was going to have to do something about Arya's safety. This had been way too close.

"I'm going to start teaching you defense with your parents wands."

Arya had been in the middle of a sleepy yawn, but his words made her sit up with a start.

"What! Really?" She said, a little too loudly.

She had practically been begging to use the wands to practice spells for the past couple of months, but Sirius had refused. She was technically still too young to be allowed a wand.

"Yes, really. The Ministry be damned, you need to be able to defend yourself. Not that your basic defense spells would've been much help against a werewolf, but it's better than nothing. Get some rest kiddo, we'll start tomorrow."

Arya practically squealed with excitement, and tackled him in anther hug before lying back down to nap. She had been allowed to hold the wands during her lessons with Dumbledore, and it was as if they were itching to be used. They felt warm in her hands when she touched them, different from each other, but both felt as if they knew her somehow. She wasn't sure if that made any sense, but it was the feeling she got from them. She could also tell that they didn't belong to her; they felt familiar and even friendly but they weren't hers, even though Dumbledore had given them to her.

It was a quiet day at the cottage, with Remus only coming out of his room briefly for lunch and a shower before going back to his room to sleep. Neither Sirius nor Arya mentioned anything about the previous night to him, so the first he heard about it was when Tonks arrived before dinner.

Tonks' POV

Tonks had stayed at her parents' house for a good part of the day, resting for a while before aiding her mother and Mad-eye with the wards. By the afternoon her arm was beginning to ache and throb in an unpleasant manner, and she returned to her flat in London to wash it and apply another coat of potion and a new bandage. She didn't really want her mother to get a good view of it, considering that she was upset about the situation already. It really did look rather gruesome.

By the time she had finished with that, cleaned up her entire drawing room, bedroom, and kitchen, she admitted to herself that she was dragging her feet. The discovery of her changed patronus had disturbed her.

Most witches and wizards could go an entire lifetime with the same patronus; the significance of which was still debated. Some said it was an external reflection of self, like an animagus form, but others said that it was an external guardian of sorts. Tonks had always believed that it one for some people, and one for others. She had felt that her sphinx was a part of herself; and now it was something else entirely. She knew that her patronus had gone from a manifestation of herself to a manifestation of someone else, and the change was terrifying.

She had felt the attraction she had for Remus growing over the last year, had acknowledged to herself that she cared for him, - a lot. But what she had seen last night wasn't a crush, wasn't some temporary infatuation. A patronus changed when something fundamental transformed within the caster; she was a different person now than she had been before, and it was because of him.

She knew what it meant, and she didn't feel ready. Sure of her feelings at long last, but also young and not prepared for the seriousness of what might happen. She felt excited by the potential as well, but for the moment at least that excitement was taking a backseat to the fear.

She sighed and considered changing into long sleeves to hide the bandages, but it was just too warm for that. Sirius seemed to think that Remus would find the whole thing a great story, but though he had known him longer, Tonks thought she might be right when she predicted that he was not going to take it well at all.

As it turned out, she was correct.

Sirius was making dinner when she stumbled out of the floo, Arya was setting the table, and Remus was nursing a cup of tea at the kitchen table. Tonks had been shy around boys as a young teenager, until she had decided that any attempt to stifle herself ended in disaster, and had vowed to never even attempt to be anyone but her own odd-ball self. Still, knowing what she now knew about her own heart, she couldn't help but compare her lime-green hair, purple tank-top, black shorts and pinks sandals to Remus's subdued and earth toned style.

What a bizarre match.

"Wotcher everyone!" She sang out.

Sirius waved a greeting with his wooden stirring spoon from the kitchen, and she plopped down at the table across from Remus, who managed a weak smile over his cup of tea. He looked tired, and the way he rubbed his temples said that he was probably dealing with a killer headache. Even with the wolfsbane potion the full moon took its toll on him.

The fact that it took him several minutes of chit chat to notice that her arm was wrapped up like a mummy testified to his tired state, because he was usually quite observant. When he did notice, his look of tired inattention shifted to a look of concern that made her heart squeeze and her stomach do an annoying flip.

He reached across the table and drew her hand toward him, much as Sirius had done that morning, except that she hadn't been tempted to hold Sirius's hand.

"What happened here?" He asked softly, though he didn't try to peek at the wounds the way Sirius had. Tonks sternly told her stomach to just _stop_ already with the weird flip-flopping.

"Ah, it's not that bad." She said in an off-hand tone of voice. "You should see the other guy."

He raised an eyebrow sardonically, and she sighed, continuing her explanation in a more serious tone of voice.

"Actually, Remus, there was a bit of an incident last night…" And she was off, explaining the entire story for what felt like the hundredth time. The other times hadn't made her feel like her heart was coming up her throat though, and she suspected that it had something to do with who she was telling it to this time.

Remus's face changed as she talked, and he released her arm as if he had been burned when she told him that it had been Greyback. She caught his hand as he recoiled from touching her, his face a stony mask.

"And here's the part where you spiral into a nasty cycle of self-blame and guilt and pity and _bloody hell _Remus, I'm not going to let you!"

Tonks realized that she was practically shouting at him, but she couldn't seem to make herself care. It was especially satisfying because it actually seemed to break through his stony expression. She also noticed that Sirius and Arya had mysteriously disappeared, for which she was grateful.

"What happened tonight was _not your fault, _and I'll tell you exactly why – no, shut up and listen, - when someone is victimized blame always, _always _lies with the aggressor. You were victimized as a child, and your abuser attempted to continue hurting you now; and he failed, Remus. When you act for the good and evil targets you, you are not to blame for its actions; you would never blame me if I had been in your place, so if you think I'll let you blame yourself, you have another thing coming! And if you think for one moment that you can just walk out of my life, or Arya's life, or Sirius's, you can think again. You don't get to decide what we do with our lives, or who we include, and no attempt at noble self-sacrifice is going to work, do you understand?"

Remus's eyebrows had crept up his forehead, and he was leaning back in his chair as if to put some more distance between them, but she still had a firm grip on his hand. He wasn't a push over though, and Tonks could see a mulish look creep over his face.

"You could have died, Dora! If I hadn't set myself against him, this would never have happened. You could have been bitten; Arya could have been bitten… Everyone would be safer if I just left, I should never have thought I could do this…"

Tonks wasn't sure if she wanted to punch him or kiss him, so she settled for squeezing his hand until her knuckles were white.

"Are you not listening? You don't get to choose for us! You think that Sirius isn't creating political enemies? You think Arya won't be targeted her entire life just because she was born? You think I'm some bloody delicate flower that can't handle a few scratches? I didn't choose a safe life, Remus; I chose a life I'm going to be asked to fight for on a daily basis just for my damn job. Every single one of us who consider you a friend have our own battles to fight, and we all signed up to fight each-others wars when we become friends. We know the risks, Remus, and we chose to stay anyway; you don't get to invalidate our choices. Arya was born into this mess and we're all going to do our best to protect her. Sirius chose his fight, and I've chosen mine."

I've chosen you.

Remus dropped his eyes to the table and let out a shuddering breath, rubbing his temple with the hand that Tonks wasn't squeezing to death. He finally met her eyes, and Tonks sighed with relief; her words had gotten through to him. She hadn't realized until that moment how afraid she had been of losing him. She didn't think Sirius had even realized the possibility.

She loosened her grip on his hand, but didn't let it go. He had nice hands. He gripped her hand back softly, and her stomach happily continued with its obnoxious summersaults.

"You're right, of course." His voice was quiet, and filled with an emotion that Tonks couldn't identify. "Thank you, Dora."

lll


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N. This was a very fun chapter to write, but it does require a disclaimer; as everyone knows, J.K Rowling owns all these wonderful characters and material. However, this particular chapter blatantly steals from another wonderful author named Tamora Peirce. Her material meshed seamlessly with occlemency, and I couldn't resist. What I took from her was the concept of the "Liars Palace", which is from her book series Tricksters Choice and Tricksters Queen, which I highly recommend to anyone and everyone. **

**Thank you for all the encouragement and feedback, I have an absolute blast writing this story, and the best part is hearing from all of you that you enjoy it. I hope you have half as much fun reading it as I have writing it!**

**This chapter is dedicated to my mom; Happy Mother's Day! I love you.**

Chapter 26

Autumn was a beautiful time of year at Remus's cottage; the October air was cool and brisk, the leaves on the trees flushed with deep reds and oranges. Sirius, Remus, and Arya were unable to appreciate any of the gorgeous morning scenery, because all three of them were sweating and gasping for breath as they attempted to run the two and a half miles around the perimeter of the property. Tonks was there as well, bringing up the rear of the group at an easy jog; Sirius wouldn't be surprised if he turned around and saw her wielding a whip.

He knew that this entire disaster was his fault. It had been him that insisted on teaching Arya the basics of defensive magic, and her eventual suggestion of asking Tonks for assistance with training had seemed reasonable at the time. Arya was doing well with the spell work using her father's wand, and Sirius had taught her an array of simple spells such as a basic shield charm, disarming spell, leg-locker jinx, blasting hex, and a few others for variety's sake. Arya was as eager as always, and she had come up with the idea of asking Tonks to pass along Auror training techniques the other week.

Sirius should have known by the evil glint that came over Tonks' face as she suggested she give them _all_ some training that they were in trouble, but no; he had just naively gone along with it, and look where that had gotten him. Attempting a long distance run at six in the morning, instead of lying snug in his nice, warm, soft, cozy bed…

He was hoping beyond hope that Arya would see the error of her ways and call this aspect of training quits after today, but the glimpses he caught of her face showed a look of pure determination, behind all the sweat and redness anyway.

Of the three new recruits, Sirius was definitely in the worst shape, which he thought was blatantly unfair. Arya had the advantage of being young and naturally light and skinny, which was the ideal build for a runner. He could understand that, but what he couldn't accept was that Remus was also doing better than he was; the man seemed to spend the majority of his time sitting on the couch eating biscuits and reading, and yet he was still out running him. Perhaps being a werewolf gave him extra stamina, or perhaps St. Mungos hadn't completely rectified Sirius's atrophied muscles from his time in Azkaban.

However out of shape he was, he wasn't about to give up while Arya and Remus kept going. He gritted his teeth and tried to remind his legs that he had once been a talented athlete. They didn't seem to remember, but he did manage to make it back to the cottage with the others. He tried to flop down on the grass, but Tonks harried him up again, handed out water bottles, and instructed them to all take a cool down walk around the yard, and drink the water slowly to avoid bringing it all back up again. Sirius wanted to kick her for not even sounding out of breath, but he contented himself with scowling and doing as instructed.

When she finally did let them collapse to the grass, it was for stretches and then sit ups and push-ups. Those at least he could do without too much trouble, but Arya's arms were too weak to get her all the way up; Tonks reassured her that she'd get there with practice, and set her easier exercises that would help get her too that point. Arya looked at her arms as if they had betrayed her in some horrible manner, and Sirius repressed a snigger; he had never met a child with quite her amount of drive. In fact, he hadn't met many adults that could match her in that regard either.

"Alright everyone, good job! Remember to stay hydrated, and get plenty of protein in your meals today. Do your stretches before bed, I'll see you all bright and early tomorrow morning for round two!"

Tonks waved cheerily at them; ignoring the looks the others were giving her, and jogged back inside to head to her training through the floo.

"Remember when she used to be so tired out from auror training that she didn't have the energy to be an evil dictator?" Sirius asked from his position lying prone on the dew soaked grass.

Remus groaned from the ground nearby. "Moody must be slacking; he can't possibly be working her hard enough…"

"When did we get so _old_? And out of shape…"

"Too many biscuits…"

They lapsed off into exhausted silence, and Sirius saw that Arya had sat up and was poking her arm muscles with a distinctly disgruntled expression. Sirius grinned.

"Cheer up, kiddo. They'll get stronger soon, if Tonks keeps up with this kind of routine."

They were going to have to feed her even more if they were going to be doing a daily run; she already ate a crazy amount of food, but she still resembled a stick. A tall, gangly, freckled, red headed stick. The amount of calories she'd need to build muscle was probably enormous, and Sirius felt a large amount of gratitude that they had enough money to feed her, and magic to make food preparation easy.

They all made their way inside with various amounts of moaning, groaning, and limping to shower before starting their days. Sirius made it out before the other two and cooked an enormous breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, hash-browns, and toast with lots of butter, making sure to give Arya second helpings of everything.

Remus ate quickly, already dressed in his dress robes for work, gave Arya a one armed hug, waved Sirius a quick goodbye, and headed toward the floo with a piece of toast in hand.

"Remember to read that chapter on the Goblin Rebellions; I want an oral report on it this evening! And write at least three paragraphs on the muggle and wizard alliance during Grindelwalds reign!"

Arya waved him off idly, her nose already buried in her history book on the couch, the cat happily purring in her lap.

Sirius cleaned up with a few quick spells, and gathered ink, quill, parchment, and a stack of Kreacher's reports and various correspondence that needed attention. Kreacher was as invaluable as ever, providing information about Sirius's political enemies without them ever suspecting a thing. Sirius's knowledge of the various factions within the Ministry baffled and outraged his opponents, and awed and impressed his allies; Slughorn had been a terrific help in forming connections, and Sirius's network was growing.

His role as one of the governors of Hogwarts gave him an official title without requiring much work; Hogwarts was very efficient at self-governing.

He and Dumbledore had not forgotten about the horcrux; Dumbledore was tracing down everyone who had known Tom Riddle before he had become Lord Voldemort, in search of possible locations that could contain more Horcrux. He also maintained that Slughorn, who had been Tom Riddles favorite teacher, may be of vital importance in regards to gathering information. How to go about obtaining that information had still not been decided; getting people to talk about their pasts with Voldemort was a sensitive business. For the time being, they were simply keeping in close contact with him by means of Sirius, and more recently, Remus. Slughorn seemed much keener on Remus since his sudden success, which wasn't entirely surprising.

After the Daily Prophet had run a first page article interviewing Tonks about the werewolf attack, Slughorn had taken quite the interest in her as well, which seemed to make her rather uncomfortable. Sirius's trump card, however, was Arya; Slughorn absolutely dotted on her.

After every time the two of them were together, Sirius would sternly tell her not to let it all go to her head. She just rolled her eyes at him and assured him that it would take more than that to inflate her head, which did seem to be true. Sirius and James had been extraordinarily cocky as youths, but Arya thankfully seemed to have inherited her mother's down to earth sensibility. Or perhaps, considering her life with the Dursleys, it was a miracle that she had any sense of self-worth at all.

Arya's POV

By the time Arya was done with her reading and writing assignments it was the afternoon, and her muscles had begun to ache from the morning exercise. There was a steady burning sensation from her thighs and calves, her stomach felt tight when she moved her torso, and extending her arms out further than ninety degrees felt impossible.

There was a nasty voice in the back of her mind that was telling her to give up now, because there was no way she could get up and do that again tomorrow; She was doomed to be a scrawny speck her entire life, and she'd never be as good a fighter as Tonks. She firmly ignored her inner skeptic, and sat on the cottage floor after lunch to go through the stretches Tonks had set; Sirius joined her with a similar amount of grumbling as her inner voice.

After they had worked out some of the stiffness, Arya wheedled Sirius into letting her practice magic, - he had begun letting her as long as she stuck to the spells in the books for first year students, and stayed within his sight at all times. After he had begun teaching her defensive spells it had seemed silly to forbid her practicing in other subjects as well. He had muttered something along the lines of 'in for a knut, in for a sickle' and given up refusing her wand access. He did warn her that she was going to be bored during all her classes if she kept it up, but she had reminded him that Hogwarts had the most extensive magical library in the country; she'd have plenty to occupy her.

She happily set off to her room, and emerged moments later with the Standard Book of Spells Grade One, and the Beginners Guide to Transfiguration in her arms. Sirius fetched Lily and James's wands for her to use; she seemed to prefer James's for Transfiguration and Lily's for charms.

She had succeeded in charming her shoes purple and transfiguring a twig into a lump of coal (what purpose would that serve, anyway?) when an owl tapped on the drawing room window, and she looked up from her stack of coal pieces. Sirius retrieved a small roll of parchment from a handsome tawny owl and unrolled it.

"Looks like you'll be having a full day of lessons; Dumbledore will be by for Occlemency after dinner."

Arya was excited to show Dumbledore the progress she'd made since his last lesson; she tried to practice every night before going to sleep, as he'd instructed. It was hard to gauge her progress without him there to test her, but she tried anyway. The first few weeks of lessons had been frustrating for her, because she had found that clearing her mind just didn't come naturally to her at all. It had taken her _months_ just to get that basic part of it down, but after mastering that part things had begun to improve.

After she had managed to maintain decent barriers, Dumbledore's lessons had become more sporadic. Since he was now confident that she would know if someone was fishing, and be able to ward them off long enough to get help, the need to teach her more was less urgent. He still came to give her lessons, just less often than at the beginning. So far they had mostly worked on blocking out an intruding mind with mental barriers, but he had hinted that she might be ready to move on to more advanced techniques soon; Arya firmly stomped on her growing excitement, because oclemency simply didn't work if you were emotional. The whole purpose of it was to stop someone from reading you, and that required calmness and organization of the mind.

When Remus arrived home from work, Sirius was almost done cooking dinner and Arya was in a cross-legged position on the floor, attempting what Dumbledore called 'meditation'; a technique appropriated from Indian magical practices that he claimed helped to clear and empty the mind. Mostly she was thinking about how clear and empty her stomach was, and the smells of roast chicken coming from the kitchen weren't helping. Even with sore and tired legs, she made it to the table in record time when Sirius announced that it was time to eat, and devoured half of the entire chicken by herself.

Sirius remarked that the cure for anyone suffering from a lack of appetite was a long run in the morning; for someone who already ate like a teenage boy, the effect was rather alarming. Arya threw a green bean at his head and reminded him that Tonks had told them to eat extra protein, and that she was still growing upward as well. She and Remus had a quick squabble over the last of the mashed potatoes; he won, but gave her most of them anyway after she used her puppy dog eyes on him. He was a sucker for pouting, and she exploited his weakness ruthlessly when it came to food.

Dumbledore arrived to find them in various stages of passed out, propped up on the couch and the kitchen table, clutching overly full stomachs and tired from the unusual amount of exercise they'd started their day with.

He surveyed the scene, bright blue eyes twinkling with mirth behind his half-moon glasses.

"Oh dear, what has happened here?"

"Nymphradora Tonks happened here." Remus supplied from his position lying prone on the couch. "I feel like the full moon hit early…"

"Uh-oh, you're going to be in so much trouble when I tell her you used her first name!" Arya called from where she was still sitting at the table, resting her head on her arms in front of her.

Remus paled slightly and pulled the couch blanket over his face to block them all out as Sirius sniggered at his oldest friend.

"Ah, I see." Dumbledore smiled. "I've never seen Alastor as pleased with someone as he has been with young Miss Tonks these last few months. I don't believe anyone has ever asked him for _more_ extra training before; he is quite pleased with her progress."

Arya and Sirius gaped at him in astonishment, and even Remus peeked out from under his blanket to stare incredulously at him.

Sirius voiced what they were all thinking.

"She asked him for _more_ training? Just a year ago she was so tired from a day of training she could barely avoid falling asleep in her food over dinner!"

"An excellent example of the benefits of hard work." Dumbledore replied, and peered at Arya over the top of his spectacles. "I trust you have been practicing hard at your lessons as well, Arya?"

As she met his piercing blue eyes, she felt the feather light touch of his mind on hers; she met him with the smooth barrier that she had worked on relentlessly since their first lesson so many months ago. It still wasn't as strong as it should be; a full on assault would crumble it down, but it was getting better. She had smoothed out the cracks and weak places, crafting a smooth shield that defected prying and left no holes for an invader to wiggle through. Dumbledore had assured her that strength would come with time and practice, and that the hardest part was creating a stable and consistent shield, which she had done.

The last few months they had begun organizing her mind behind layers of mental barriers; a process that never failed to leave her with a headache. It was vital that the secrets she was privy to remain hidden, and thus one large frontal shield was deemed too easy to get through – the deepest secrets were hidden and placed within her mind behind smaller barriers of her own creation. It was a strange system in which she had to make connections in her thought process to unrelated things, and them place them together where an intruder might never think to look; for instance, her knowledge of hocruxes was placed with her memories of a stay with her old neighbor Mrs. Fig when she was four. The theory being that most Death Eaters didn't have much interest in looking at old pictures of cats and eating stale chocolate cake.

Dumbledore smiled again. "Very good. I think you'll like our lesson today, if you can stay awake for it; it'll be a little different than our usual."

Arya nodded eagerly and sat up straighter at the table. Sirius stood and began to clear the dishes, creating room for the professor to take a seat across his student.

"Thus far we have concentrated exclusively on blocking and evading techniques, and you have progressed well. You will continue practicing what we have studied on your own time, until you have achieved an acceptable level of strength; but that will come with age and repetition. In between now and then, however, we will be learning the much more difficult task of outright deception and memory fabrication."

Dumbledore reached inside his robes and pulled forth a folio of parchment, which he handed to her across the table.

"This is an essay written by one of the most proficient occlemence of the age; I persuaded him (not a minor task, mind you) to compile it for me only last week. In it he explains at great length what he has delightfully dubbed "the Liars Palace", and it is this that you and I will build together in the coming years." He chuckled at her expression. "Yes, it will take years. It is an on-going process that you will have to maintain for as long as you wish to keep your secrets hidden from prying minds. You have a very active imagination and have shown an aptitude for this, Arya. You may find this easier than you think, after you understand what it is I'm asking of you."

Arya flipped open the folio and examined the small, precise writing it contained; there was a lot of it.

"Tonight I will explain to you the basic concepts, and then I will give you several weeks to read the essay and compile a list of ideas about how you will build your palace; what about yourself will you hide, and what miss-information will you sow? On my next visit we will go over your list to refine and hone it, but there is only so much I will be able to do; the bulk of this can only be done by you. It is, after all, your head we are dealing with."

"The main concept of the Liars Palace is a false identity that you will build for yourself, using real memories for the basis of your false self – your history will be as you wish to show your enemies, your personality will appear as you wish them to see, instead of how it is. By this means you will hide your secrets, your liabilities, your truth. A master of a Liars Palace is the true master occlemence; the true mark of mastery is a man or woman who appears to have no grasp of occlemency whatsoever. An enemy will enter your apparently un-guarded mind, and find the false mind that you have crafted for them; they will find only what you wish them to. If you are expected to know a little occlemency, you may create a weak shield to protect it. The invading mind is meant to think that that is the best you can do, and it is a farce that is often successful."

Arya sat with her knees drawn up to her chest on the kitchen chair, listening with wide eyed excitement. What Dumbledore was describing was beyond what she had ever expected to learn about occlemency. He went on about the ways of building false memories off of real ones, and about what type of things she should consider hiding, and what things to leave untouched.

By the time they had gone over what he deemed necessary and he had departed the cottage, Arya's mind was on overdrive with all the information she had absorbed. As she wished Sirius and Remus goodnight and made her way to her room, she ruefully reflected that her legs felt like limp noodles, and her mind like a soaked sponge.

The next morning as Tonks herded them all out the door for another torturous run, Arya would have gladly exchanged her burningly sore legs for the limp pasta legs of the night before.

lll


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N. Big time jump here again! Getting excited to write the Hogwarts years soon. **

**Thank you to everyone who reads this, I know it's long and getting longer! Thank you especially to everyone who's been so supportive with feedback, all your encouragement is wonderful to read. **

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 27

It was several weeks before Arya built up her strength enough to do any number of push-ups in a row, and it was the end of March before Sirius could complete their morning run without wanting to collapse immediately afterward. By early summer Arya had put on a decent amount of weight and had grown another few inches upward as well, keeping neck and neck with Ron Weasley.

Life at Remus's cottage had progressed much as it had the year before; Remus was still waging his war for werewolf rights, Sirius continued his quiet political preparations, and amidst it all, Arya was growing up. Sirius was incredibly proud of his daughter as she continued in her self-driven quest to learn as much magic as she could, and grow and develop into her own unique person. Whatever anyone could say about her, she didn't lack for personality; anyone who grew up with the two remaining Marauders for parental figures was bound to be interesting, and Arya was living proof. Sirius felt that he could at least blame Tonks for some of her quirks, as having Nymphadora Tonks as a main female role model was bound to rub off a bit; Arya had developed a definite taste for the Weird Sisters and denim jackets, and Sirius was sure his cousin was to blame.

Arya had whiled away the winter months by concentrating on her first year Hogwarts books, and though her success with her parents wands was sometimes spotty, she was ready to move on to the next years books by June. Sirius didn't seem to understand her academic ambition, but after he had assured himself that she was being responsible with the wands, he let her continue working ahead, and was willing to help her where he could.

The two subjects she didn't do alone were potions and defense against the dark arts; potion brewing needed supervision, and practical defense needed a partner to practice with effectively.

Arya was determined to succeed at potions; she hadn't given up on her ambition to get good enough to brew the wolfsbane potion, and she was further along in that subject than in any other. Remus had been touched when she had told him that she wanted to help promote werewolf rights, and it had been her idea to enlist Slughorn in a charity program that provided Wolfsbane potion to werewolves who couldn't afford it.

Slughorn, who normally didn't step out of his way to aid someone if it didn't profit him in some way, simply couldn't deny her much of anything; he put his potion brewing skills to good use, with funding provided by the newly created Black and Lupin Charity programs. Sirius was convinced that Arya could bat her lashes at the man, ask for a dragon egg, and one would show up at the cottage the next day. He had certainly agreed to help her with his old subject quick enough, though Sirius suspected that a close relationship with the Girl Who Lived was appealing to him for more reasons than genuine fondness, though there was undoubtedly that as well.

Tonks and Remus began to help with her defense practice as well, Remus covering book learning and Magical Creatures, and Tonks with practical spell usage. Sirius had never thought to turn defense lessons into a game, but Tonks insisted that it would be a good learning device, and she had turned out to be correct.

Besides learning the basic spells (Sirius wouldn't teach her anything too dangerous), Tonks had created a game that involved splitting all the players into teams, and pitting them against each other within a variety of situations; one team on offensive, the other trying to get to the safe point without getting hit with the tickling hex they were using to represent the more lethal real world spells. Sometimes it was all against one person, sometimes the goal was to take out as many people as possible, or to hide for as long as possible, to save someone else who was being guarded, etc. They were allowed to use shield charms, disarming charms, or minor hexes only, but the games were still intense at times, and Arya thought they were awesome.

Sirius had been surprised by how effective and difficult it turned out to be, and Tonks had explained that she had gotten the idea from the simulated battles and missions the trainee aurors did at the Ministry. She had toned it down to a child's level, and even made it fun, but the goals remained mostly the same. Sirius had been the one who had insisted on training her, and he stood by his decision, but the meaning behind what they were teaching her made his skin crawl; they were operating under the assumption that she would be fighting for her life at some point in the future. She would be ten years old by the middle of summer, and they were simulating life or death scenarios with tickling hexes,- and this was what she considered fun. There was something a little wrong with that, but Sirius knew that he would rather be over prepared than under.

Try as she might, Arya couldn't persuade Ron to take much of an interest in reading ahead on their Hogwarts material, nor could she convince him to run with her in the mornings after she had spent a night at the Weasley's. To be fair, he had agreed to run with her the first time she'd asked, and had soundly abused her for it by the time they'd gone half a mile, and refused to try again at any point after that. She had better luck convincing Ginny, who didn't like the idea of being behind her best friend and closest brother academically, and whose status as the youngest of seven children had given a fierce competitive streak. Arya lent her the first year books, and in a stroke of genius, Ginny had snuck her uncle's wands from out of her mother's bedside cabinet to practice with.

Unlike Arya, Ginny couldn't seem to sit for hours on end with her nose in a book. After an hour of reading she'd begin to fidget, and it was just a matter of time after that began before she'd spring up and declare that study time was over, and proceed to drag Arya outside for games and playing. Ginny was bright, and learned quickly the things that interested her, but needed frequent physical activity to stop her from getting bored, and she absolutely detested the history books, which she gave up on after a short time - informing Arya that if she wanted to go to sleep, she'd talk to Percy instead. She didn't do much with potions either, since she didn't have the means to brew anything, and the book was boring by itself.

Still, Arya was glad to have a friend who showed an interest and talent for learning magic, and the two girls often stayed up at night when they were supposed to be sleeping at the Burrow, practicing different charms and spells until they were too tired to continue on.

After one such sleep-over, Arya was awakened by the magic alarm clock Sirius had given her in the Fall after they had begun their runs in the morning, which she had set to what Ginny referred to as an 'unholy hour of the morning'.

Waking the youngest Weasley from a deep sleep was a difficult task, because though Ginny was usually a bursting ball of energy, she also slept like a rock.

"Come onnnn, Ginny!"

She shook her friend by the shoulder to no noticeable effect, and resorted to grabbing a feather quill from the bedside table and tickling Ginny's nose with it. She was whomped with a pillow for her efforts, but at least Ginny was awake.

"We need to finish our run and showers before your mom finishes cooking breakfast, or your brothers will eat everything. Get dressed!"

Ginny grumbled like a bear coming out of hibernation, and Arya was pretty sure Molly would have a fit if she heard some of the words her daughter was using, but the two girls were dressed and out the door in a short amount of time.

It _was_ rather early to be up, with the sun just peaking over the horizon, but it was much better than running in the full heat of a sunny June day. The days where Arya had struggled to finish her runs were thankfully over, and Ginny had taken to exercise better than Arya had at the beginning; they took off around the Burrow, following a trail around the orchard and wooded patch, around the pond, down the lane, and around the house – it took several lapse to equal the distance at the cottage, but it was beautiful too.

Running with Ginny actually made the workout fun, because they could laugh, talk, and compete with each other as they went. Arya had longer legs working to her advantage, but Ginny had a fierce competitive streak and years of keeping up with six older brothers, so they were actually well matched.

Arya knew that Tonks would be over at the cottage making sure that Sirius and Remus didn't skip their morning routine, but they didn't have the opportunity to jump in a pond to cool down at the end, which Ginny and Arya did. There was much shrieking and laughing as they launched themselves off the bank and into the chilly water, but it was the fastest way to cool off. They had learned the hard way that staying in the water too long would make their muscles cramp, so they trooped inside shortly afterward, dripping murky water up the stairs on the way to the showers.

They had cleaned up and changed clothes by the time a stampede of feet could be heard descending the stairs above Ginny's room, the usual signal that breakfast was being served. Ginny made it out of her bedroom and down the stairs before her brothers made it to the kitchen, and Arya was left to find her way down after the rest of the horde had passed, wondering if Ginny would beat the record time on their run if Arya dangled a bacon sandwich in front of her nose.

Back at the cottage, it was a rare child-free weekend at for Remus and Sirius, and they knew they were getting old because neither of them had any ideas about how to take advantage of it. Tonks took pity on them after their morning run was over and offered to come back around in the evening, and the three of them made plans to have dinner in the nearby village. In the meantime, Sirius had a meeting of Hogwarts governors to attend concerning the appointment of the yearly defense against the dark arts teacher they could never seem to hold on to, and Remus finally started a book he'd been too busy with work to read.

Tonks spent the day engaging in a nervous habit that she had picked up from her mother, – cleaning. While Tonks was normally a bit hap-hazard as far as cleaning methods went, if she was nervous or anxious about something she went into what she referred to as a cleaning frenzy. By the time evening rolled around her flat was spotless from floor to ceiling, and she had painted the walls of her bedroom and kitchen.

As far as habits that people developed to avoid thinking about important things, she figured that at least hers was productive, and left her with no time to think about stupid things either, like what she was going to wear for the occasion.

She threw on the first things she reached in her closet and ended up in an old pair of jean shorts, a turquoise tee-shirt, and regular old trainers. She considered her reflection in the mirror for only a moment, turned her hair into a shoulder length mass of bright blond curls, and tanned her skin to compliment the color of her shirt.

She shrugged her shoulders at the finished result - it was good enough; hard experience had taught her not to change herself much to impress any guy, though she thought better of Remus than that.

She caught her foot on the edge of the rug coming out of the floo at the cottage, and it was only the fact that Remus was close enough to catch her that saved her from getting a close up inspection of the carpet, again. She thanked her lucky stars that she had long since gotten over her embarrassment at being clumsy, and steadfastly ignored the somersaults that her stomach had been practicing for the last year whenever Remus touched her.

"Wotcher!" She greeted him as he set her on her feet again. "If that whole owning your own business thing doesn't work out for you, I'll hire you to follow me around and prevent me from greeting the floor with my face. I'll be honest with you, the pay will be rubbish, but we could arrange other perks…"

She grinned when he blushed.

"Er, thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

Sirius appeared from down the hall, having just changed out of his wizards robes and into muggle attire, and the three of them stepped outside to apparate to a wooded patch near the edge of town. The restaurant was just down the street, a small local place with good food and a bar, a little too full of smoke for taking Arya along with them.

Being child free meant that there was much more bawdy conversation and swearing, but at least it wasn't the type of place that frowned on that. Sirius had been horrified when he'd noticed himself using fake swears even when Arya wasn't around, and seemed to be trying to make up for it all in one go. Making fun of some of the other school governors gave him ample material to mix his foul language in, and they lingered over drinks after their meal was over, chatting happily.

After making it back to the cottage, Sirius claimed that he was experiencing a food coma and collapsed onto the sofa, where it looked like he intended to stay for a long time. Tonks rolled her eyes at him, but was grateful for the opportunity to get Remus alone; suggesting that taking a stroll was a better option after eating too much than napping, they headed out together along their normal running route at a casual walk.

Talking with Remus was easy, but by the half-way point Tonks had lost the thread of their conversation because the nerves she had delayed were beginning to set in again. Her heart was beating hard enough that she could hear her pulse in her ears, and she was starting to wish that she hadn't eaten so much shepherd's pie, because her stomachs happy flip flops just felt like queasiness now. She really didn't like feeling as vulnerable as she was going to be making herself in few moments time, which was part of the reason she'd put it off for so long.

"Are you all right? You seem a little on edge tonight."

Tonks gave a startled twitch when Remus's voice broke the silence, cutting through her nervous worrying. She wished she'd come up with a better game plan than just winging it, but no, - she'd painted her damn flat instead.

"Er, yeah I am. Alright, I mean! No, actually, - I am a bit on edge, but I'm also alright…"

She shut her mouth before more word vomit could come out, and took a steadying breath.

"Anything I can do to help?"

He sounded slightly amused by her flustered behavior, but also kind.

"Well, yes, probably several things actually, but I think I'll just have to bugger my way through telling you, and I just _really_ should have planned this out better, but bloody hell, I'm just going to have to get it over with before I go totally bonkers…"

She stopped walking suddenly, and Remus stopped as well, turning to face her on the small winding path and beginning to look quite concerned for her. The setting sun was shining through the foliage, lending a golden cast to his light brown hair; it really was a beautiful moment to potentially ruin their friendship.

"The thing is, I've been absolutely crazy about your for about the last two bloody years, and it's getting to the point where it's a bit ridiculous, and I thought maybe it was about time to tell you. So here it is, - I'm in love with you, Remus. And I'm a bit sorry to break that to you, because I know you didn't ask for this, and… and I know you're probably not interested in me, but I didn't ask for it to happen either, and I can't seem to help it, so…"

Remus looked like the picture of shocked surprise, and Tonks felt an annoyingly large lump form in her throat as the silence dragged on. From the corner of her eye she noticed her blond curls falling limp and darkening to a muddy, lank brown. Stunned silence hadn't been what she was hoping for, but there was nothing for it but to press on. She wanted to just make sure that he understood the depth of what she was saying; since she was putting herself out there anyway, she might as well bare it all.

"I know that you didn't ask for the kind of power over me that you have now, but I didn't ask for this either, and that doesn't stop it from being real." She hated how small her voice sounded. "You know me, Remus; you know I'm not some flighty twat who goes from man to man, thinking herself in love with each of them, and then turning around and finding another. I wouldn't be saying any of this to you if I wasn't sure of myself. I love you."

The sun dipped past the horizon and left them standing in shadow; she couldn't see his expression anymore, but the silence spoke volumes. She could feel her form changing against her will; feel herself shrinking in, her limbs losing their muscled strength. She hadn't lost this much control over her abilities since she'd been a child, and she tried desperately to hold onto her form, but it was useless. Her clothes felt baggy, her shirt suddenly oversized on her waif thin shoulders.

Merlin, she felt like such a fool. She should have kept her ruddy mouth shut, and then at least she could have deluded herself.

One last thing to do, and then she could bugger off back to her flat and wallow in her bad decision making.

She drew her wand, and with more effort than it had ever taken her before, she cast her patronus that so clearly demonstrated the depth of her attachment to him.

The silvery werewolf was bright in the darkening forest, padding silently toward them across the leaf littered ground. It stopped in front of Remus, and Tonks wondered for a moment if it could recognize who it was meant to be. A moment later it had gone, dissipating into silvery mist that drifted away on the evening breeze.

"Well. I'm just going to go now." There was another brief silence. "I'll… I'll see you around then."

She managed to spin on her heel without falling flat on her face, and walked as fast as she could back the way they had come. She wanted to put as much space between them as she could before she totally lost it, and she could already feel the burning in her eyes that promised a good long cry was in her immediate future. Worse, she could also feel the gut twisting, lung constricting, throat choking sensation that told her that the breakdown wasn't going to be a nice quiet cry, either, and she didn't trust herself to apparate in her current state. The last thing she needed was to splinch herself. She broke into a slight run as she rounded a bend in the path, leaving Remus behind in the darkening woods.

Remus's POV

Remus stared in amazement at the spot where Tonks's werewolf patronus had just been, feeling as if he'd just had an out of body experience; that patronus had been _him. _He knew it as surely as if he'd been looking in the mirror at his own reflection.

He looked back around just in time to hear Tonks's hurried goodbye and see her turn on her heel and practically run away from him. She had changed before his eyes from her normal vibrant self into some kind of pale imitation of Nymphradora Tonks; one without any color or animation.

And he'd just stood there like an idiot, unable to believe that the woman he'd spent the last two years trying to convince himself not to fall for had just confessed her love to him in a rather irrefutable manner.

Perhaps if a similar event had occurred a few years ago he'd have been able to convince himself to let her blunder off into the woods alone, and maybe he'd have even convinced himself that it was for her own good.

He was a different person these days though, and he wasn't nearly as good at denying himself the things he truly wanted as he had been before.

There was no sound of her disapparating, and Remus took off after her after a moment longer of being rooted to the spot, taking out his wand and casting lumos as he went.

She hadn't made it far. He found her sitting against the roots of and old oak tree about a quarter of a mile down the path. She had her knees drawn up to her chest, her head resting on her knees, and her arms wrapped around her shins as if they were the only thing holding her together. The light from his wand illuminated her mousy brown hair and thin pale arms, and Remus felt his gut wrench in guilt. He could have spared her a lot of pain if he'd managed to spit a few words out earlier instead of standing there like he had lock-jaw.

She didn't look up as he approached, though he knew she'd noticed the light by the way she turned her head away from him. Her shoulders were shaking, and he could tell by her breathing that she was fighting back sobs. She did manage to choke out something that sounded like "Piss off", but it was hard to tell.

Remus extinguished his wand and stuffed it back in his pocket to free both his hands, and then sat in the dirt next to Tonks. There was barely enough light to see by, but he could still make her out in the darkness, huddled small against the old tree.

She started when he touched her, but still didn't look up as he combed his fingers through her hair. Her shaking slowly subsided, and he could hear her breathing evening out.

"I love you, Dora." His voice sounded hoarse and quiet, but perfectly audible in the still air. "I think I fell in love with you within that first month of knowing you. I'd convinced myself that I didn't stand a chance, - that I didn't deserve you. I'm older than you, my condition makes me dangerous, and I was very used to considering myself poor with no prospects. It's taken the last two years for me to see myself in any other light, and by then denying myself happiness was ingrained in my behavior."

"You deserve someone young, and whole. But what you told me after Fenrir attacked you still holds true; I don't get to make your decisions for you. I'm… I'm entirely yours, if you want me."

There was a very still silence, and even in the dark Remus could see Tonks' hair morph into a very bright pink spiky style. She must have put the muscle back into her arms too, because when she finally unfurled and punched him, it hurt like hell.

He didn't have time to dwell on it, because the next second she had launched herself at him, and he suddenly found himself on his back in the dirt, with Tonks firmly on top of him.

"Merlin, Remus! Couldn't have said that all five minutes ago?!"

"You sprang it on me and then ran away! I didn't have the chance to recover from my shock."

"Oh, shut it, you prat."

Remus might have retorted, but then she was kissing him, and he had rather more pressing matters to deal with than to come up with a decent rejoinder.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N. Sorry for the long break between updates, real life was happening for a bit there! **

**Thank you for your patience, hope you enjoy the chapter! **

**As always, let me know what you think if you have a moment, and thank you for all the previous reviews! **

Chapter 28

July 31st

Severus Snape wouldn't say that he _enjoyed_ the summer holidays, but he did appreciate the lack of the loud, obnoxious, insipid, mindless hordes of children that he was obligated to put up with throughout the school year.

His house at Spinners End wasn't much, but it was blessedly quiet and devoid of students, and Snape was able to spend his summer months in relative peace. No amount of privacy and quiet could save him from the torment of his own mind however, and the fact that his home was the same he had grown up in added an extra fine touch of depression to his already despondent mood. The constant reminder of his dysfunctional childhood wasn't particularly healthy, but it was no less than what he deserved.

He knew he was fortunate to be anywhere that wasn't a dank cell in Azkaban, considering his youthful foray into the dark arts and subsequent inclusion in the ranks of the Death Eaters. He sometimes speculated that the presence of dementors wouldn't have that much effect on him, given that he relived his darkest moments continually without any outside help in the matter.

He couldn't truly fool himself into believing that his self-imposed punishments were equal to Azkaban; he at least was not subjected to physical deprivation and starvation, though he had found over the years that he was unable to fully enjoy the finer comforts in life. The taste of good food, the comfort of feather beds, the warmth of fires crackling in a winter hearth; all reminders that he was alive and free, while there were innocent people dead and buried because of his actions.

How many nameless muggles had died at the hands of Death Eater raids, perpetrated for no other reason than hateful sport? He had killed muggles and wizards alike during the war, driven by the promise of power and retribution against those who had tormented him; his abusive muggle father and his childhood bullies had served to fuel his spite and anger.

Slytherin house had been full of Death Eaters in the making, and he had found acceptance and comradery amongst them for the first time in his life; there had been a euphoric sense of purpose and power building among them that had burst into a terrible wave of war and death.

Severus had risen alarmingly fast through the ranks of the Death Eaters, caught up in wild dreams and blind ambition; he had struggled through his school years as an outcast but during the war he was powerful.

His comrades were backstabbing, power hungry, and ruthless; the family he had found was worse than the one he had been born into.

The relentless death and fighting had begun to ware at him as the years passed, and though he had tried to maintain his fanatical ideology, he could no longer block out the dreams of dying and pain that had begun to haunt him. He had begun to see that there was no true purpose to the fighting, no glory or satisfaction except for those who enjoyed causing pain.

Each new muggle born who was killed began to look like Lily; every day he lived in fear that she would meet her end at the hands of his allies. And then his worst fear had almost come true; Voldemort had gotten information about the whereabouts of an Order mission, and Severus had been part of the raiding party. The battle that had taken place had been bloody and confused, and in the midst of the desperate fight Severus had found himself face to face with Lily Evans, green eyes blazing with reflected curse light and red hair flying as she fought; she had joined the Order of the Phoenix.

He had frozen in shock, and she had stumbled as well; her hesitation almost cost her life at the hands of another Death Eater, and Severus had been punished viciously for letting the Order members escape. It had been the first of many close calls, and it was at this point that Severus truly felt his loyalty fail.

He was no longer able to overlook the contradictions of his beliefs; how could he believe in the superiority of pure bloods and yet love a woman of muggle parentage? As a teenager he had trained himself to compartmentalize his love for Lily and his growing involvement with the dark lord's movement, but he could lie to himself no longer; he was fighting for a cause that he didn't believe in.

His skill in the art of Occlemency saved him from what would have been a painful death at the hands of his allies. Every moment he lived in fear of being discovered, and every new instance of death and killing curdled his stomach. He told himself that he was in too far to turn back – one didn't just leave the ranks of the Death Eaters, - joining their ranks was a life sentence.

He re-committed to the dark lord, worked twice as hard as his fellows, and when the chance came to pass along a prophecy of great importance he had jumped at the chance to prove himself. Such a useful bit of information was an opportunity to gain favor with the Dark Lord without too much risk to himself, and he didn't think twice before deciding to pass the information along – what were a few more deaths to add to his list of crimes?

Severus had noticed that Lily hadn't been seen in skirmishes against the Order for some months, had known that she was Lily _Potter_ by then, and he had been grateful that she had withdrawn from the fighting. He assumed that she was doing non-combatant work for the Order, and as no news of any harm to her had reached him, he was content to believe that she was, for the moment, out of immediate danger.

The Dark Lord had indeed been pleased with him, though he had longed to hear the full prophecy, he believed he had enough information to counteract the possible threat. Voldemort began to gather information on all witches expecting children near the end of July, and it was several days before Severus learned to his horror that Lily had been absent from the fighting because she was pregnant; due to have her child in the first week of August.

She went into labor four days early, and gave birth to her daughter as the seventh month died.

Severus once again felt the full force of his fear return. He waited as the Dark Lord deliberated between which child he would choose; the Longbottom's had defied him three times, and their son had been born a mere day earlier. Both children fit the terms of the Prophecy, and Severus prayed to a deity he didn't believe in that the boy would be chosen; the Dark Lord instead chose the girl.

In a desperate attempt to save Lily, Severus devised a lie based on the truth, and worked tirelessly to form an entire history of memories to support it in his mind; he created what he later dubbed a Liars Palace, and built into it his lifelong desire for Lily Evans.

It wasn't hard to do, because most of it was the truth. He included all his lust for her, and all his hate of James. He left out all of the love.

When he pled with the Dark Lord to spare her when he killed the child, the Dark Lord believed it was because he desired to possess her body, and because he desired to cause James Potter pain. He agreed that Lily would be spared and given to Severus, if she didn't put up too much of a fight to save her brat.

Severus remembered the woman who had been his dearest friend since they had been children together, until he had driven her away from him with his detestable behavior. He remembered her unfailing kindness and her fierce determination to do what was right no matter the cost, and he knew that she was going to die before she'd let anyone near her child.

And then he did what he had been too cowardly to do before; he went to Dumbledore.

It was too little too late; barely over a year later she was dead.

Ten years after she had given birth to the child that had doomed her Severus was alive and free from the Death Eaters and the Aurors alike.

Free from all punishment except for the knowledge of his guilt and the penance he put himself through; he didn't eat the extravagant Hogwarts food, he didn't warm his chambers, he didn't sleep in a soft bed. He requested bland, simple foods from the kitchen, kept his hearths empty and cold, slept on a thin mat in his chambers. His skin, always pale, grew sallow from lack of sunlight. Always thin, he was now little more than skeletal; he ate enough to keep his strength up. His neglect of his physical well-being was apparent, but never enough to kill him. He didn't deserve an ending, he deserved to live with himself; there was no punishment greater.

He would live, and when Voldemort returned, he would protect the last bit of Lily left in the world – her daughter. The reason she had been hunted down and murdered.

Just another year to go before the living reminder of his failure was thrust under his nose every day. If the child had never been born, Lily might never have died. She was the reason Lily had been targeted.

And yet… Snape was the reason a child was left an orphan.

_Lily's_ child. But also James Potter's child. The very thought of her made his gut twist with guilt and remorse, and his blood heat with anger.

Merlin, he hated James.

He had been angry at Lily for rejecting him; but that had been a youthful and twisted view and he knew better now. Of course she hadn't chosen him, - he'd been horrible to her; had stood against everything she had fought for. He knew now that everything that had happened to him had been his own fault, barring the situation with his abusive father.

While he didn't blame Lily for walking away from him, he could still hate that she had ended up with James Potter.

He hated James for being his childhood tormentor, he hated him for having the affection of the only woman Severus had ever loved; but mostly he hated James because he too, had failed to protect her.

_He hadn't even had his wand._ The fool.

Severus sat now in his small kitchen at Spinners End, the curtains drawn to keep out the bright July sunshine, contemplating the past as his half eaten bowl of porridge grew cold on the table in front of him. During the school year he had little time to dwell, and the constant presence of students and staff meant that he had to continuously hide his pain.

Dumbledore knew the depth of his remorse, but no one else did. It wasn't hard to keep everyone at a distance though; he had never been good at making friends, and now that he was actively avoiding doing so it was laughably easy to be a loner. The staff at least knew of his history as a Death Eater, and it was only Dumbledore's vote of confidence that convinced them to accept him to a degree.

A constant state of guilt and self-denial did little to improve his demeanor, but he was past caring that he was unfriendly and unlikable. He was a teacher who hated children, what did they expect?

He was brought out of his reverie by the tap of an owl at the window, and he stood abruptly to pull back the curtains and open the window enough for a medium tawny owl to enter. The bird flew off after he had relieved it of its burden, and he once again pulled the curtains closed.

It was a letter from Dumbledore. The old man had requested informational reports about his occlemency techniques several months back, and since then had pelted him with the occasional questionnaire regarding his essays. Severus wasn't sure what the old wizard was up to, but his first assumption, (that Dumbledore was working on his own skills), had been proven wrong by the fact that each of his letters contained a separate sheet of parchment with written questions in a different hand writing.

Severus had demanded to know who had been reading his work, (it was rather important that the information not fall into the wrong hands), but Dumbledore had refused to tell him. He had assured him that he'd know in time, and that it wasn't going to reach the wrong people. Severus had been deeply unsatisfied with his answer, but with Dumbledore, that was his normal state of being.

At least the letters broke up the monotony of his summer routine, and his mysterious student asked astute questions, unlike most of the dunderheads he had to teach at Hogwarts. The handwriting was neat and small, and Severus amused himself occasionally with trying to guess the age and gender of the writer; a thoroughly useless activity.

At first he had assumed by the level of intelligence shown in the letter that it must be an adult, but he had since revised his opinion; though very smart, his student was undoubtedly still very naive in their view of the world. There was an innocence in their ideas about what to include in the Liars Palace and what to leave in the open that betrayed youthful in-experience. Whoever they were, they didn't have a very good idea about how the darker side of the world operated.

He did his best to explain the reasons for hiding the truth of oneself from prying eyes, about what made a person vulnerable, and how to shift attention away from that. In a way it was satisfying to share what he was truly good at with someone, and it was gratifying to see the progress the letters showed. He'd asked Dumbledore how their mystery student was doing in practical application, and had been disturbed to see how pleased Dumbledore had been that he had asked.

Did Dumbledore want him to be interested in this person? Why not just introduce them then?

The old man worked in riddles and layers, and for the moment, Severus let the matter rest. Trying to pry information from that man was an effort in futility.

He read through the missive, and then summoned quill and parchment to write back; distracted for the moment from his daily gloom. Each question drew more information out of him than he had been aware that he had, and their style of writing and asking questions even drew a half smile and a raised eyebrow from him. He got the impression that whoever she was, his student had a bit of an attitude about her.

He paused in his writing for a moment.

When had he decided his student was a she?

He gave a mental shrug and continued writing, reprimanding his young, mysterious, possibly female student for being sassy, and detailing the arguments he'd made in his essay regarding informational misdirection. If she was going to excel at occlemency, she needed to become a lot more cynical; he happened to be a master of both occlemency and cynicism, if he couldn't teach her, no one could.

Arya Lily Potter POV

When Arya, Remus, and Sirius arrived home late in the evening on Arya's birthday, they found two letters waiting for them on the kitchen table, along with a small phoenix feather; post from Dumbledore.

Remus made a vague excuse about needing to attend a meeting at work, and despite it being well past the end of the work day, took off through the floo.

Arya had some definite suspicions about where he'd been off to the last few weeks, but since Sirius hadn't seemed to notice yet, she hadn't said anything. _How_ Sirius had managed to miss all the looks that Remus and Tonks had been shooting each other over the last few weeks was beyond her, but she figured they'd tell him when they were ready.

She recognized the handwriting on one of the letters as her un-named instructor, and the one addressed to Sirius was from Dumbledore. She half-heartedly attempted to read it over his shoulder, but he held it out of her reach.

"Are you a master occlemencer yet, miss?" He asked teasingly. "Because if not, I don't think you get to read this."

She huffed impatiently.

"Dumbledore says I'm making amazing progress."

"And what does you other instructor say?"

Arya looked down at the letter in her hand.

"That I'm an 'immature child with only the vaguest of ideas about the reality of the world, with a horribly snarky attitude and a bad grasp of logical reasoning.' Lovely. Real boost of self-confidence."

Sirius barked a laugh at her expense, and ruffled her hair good naturedly.

"Sounds like you'd better go practice being a jaded adult before you go to bed."

Arya sighed dramatically.

"I feel it working already… By my next birthday I'll have grey hair and a sour attitude, and my distant professor will finally be pleased!"

Sirius grinned, and Arya headed to bed after wishing him a goodnight and getting one last birthday hug. She showered and changed into her pajamas before settling cross-legged in bed to finish reading her letter and then making adjustments in the structure of her liar's palace.

She had constructed it starting with her oldest memories and working her way up to the present; every day required updates, because each new day needed to be altered to show it how she wanted.

She was constantly thinking of knew things to go back and change or hide in her past, and it was common for her to spend at least an hour every night making adjustments. It sometimes left her with weird dreams at night, and memories that it took her a moment to realize were fake. It was as if she had crafted an alternative personality for herself, and going into it in such depth left her feeling strange for a bit afterward. She didn't necessarily like the version of herself she had crafted to hide behind, but she understood the reasoning for it.

The Liars Palace showed an Arya that didn't have much love for her family or friends, because showing who you cared about gave your enemies someone to target. It felt like a dis-serves to them, but she would do anything to keep them safe.

She went back through her day, hiding and altering how fun her birthday had actually been. She'd spent the day having a blast with Ginny, Ron and Neville, but in her Palace she looked down on the Weasley's for being poor, and thought that Neville was stupid and boring. She painted Ron as being mean to her, and Ginny as being immature.

It left a sour taste in her mouth, and she supposed that was why her instructor thought she was naïve. Maybe he was right about her, but she thought that he was so far gone the opposite way that a little bit of immature innocence must be a better way to live. She always got the impression from his letters that he must be very sad.

She didn't really mind the snarky back and forth they had in their correspondence, and his terse replies actually seemed to encourage her to crack wise.

Dumbledore said that she might have lessons from him in person in a few years if she progressed well in the subject, and she hoped she wasn't misreading actual anger as playful banter.

The cat crawling into her lap signaled time for sleep after an hour or so had passed, and she flopped sideways onto her pillows and stretched out her legs. The cat mewed angrily at being jostled, and crawled up to lay on top of her head in retribution.

She fell asleep to soft purring and the slight tickle of cat hair up her nose, dreaming of this time next year, when she'd have her Hogwarts letter.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N. I had so much fun writing the previous chapter, because Snape is such an interesting character to work with. I wanted to reassure everyone that I do not plan to gloss over or ignore the fact that Snape is quite a reprehensible person in many ways; he spent years taking out a grudge on a _child_ in the books, and was cruel and cold to Neville and Hermione just because he could be. His grudge reveals a childlike mentality that he has against those he feels have wronged him, and he is a selfish man; even where Lily is concerned, where he does act for someone other than himself, he asks Voldemort to spare her with little to no thought of her child or husband.**

**That being said, what he _isn't_ is a one dimensional sociopath incapable of feeling any good emotion, i.e Love. That's Voldemort you're thinking of, and that was the whole point of Snape's arc in the last two books of the series; even Snape, one of the darkest characters in the series, could know love, but Voldemort could not.**

**I don't particularly want anyone to feel sorry for Snape if they're not inclined to do so, but I aim to go in depth with all the characters that I can, and I won't bash a character just because the character is a bad person; lots of times what makes a good character is a bad personality.**

**Thank you for reading and reviewing, and as always, I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

Chapter 29

Sirius failed to notice that his cousin and his best friend were dating until the second week of August, and he only came to the realization when confronted with them snogging in front of him. He rather wished that he could have avoided the sight, but alas, he was not so lucky.

He, Arya, Remus, and Tonks had started the day with their morning run as had become their routine, and halfway through he had realized that Remus and Tonks had been falling behind. At first he had been elated, thinking that he was finally in such good shape that he was out running them; but when he and Arya made it so far ahead that Remus and Tonks were lost to view, he began to suspect that something else must be going on.

Arya protested when he turned back, but he dragged her reluctantly behind him as he jogged back the way they had come to see what their friends had gotten up to, only to round a bend in the path to find them snogging quite determinedly against an old oak tree, oblivious to everything else.

Sirius felt like he'd been hit in the face with a brick, and by the way Arya was sniggering at him as she dragged him away, he probably looked like it too.

He hightailed it back to the cottage in record time, and wished he had something stronger than orange juice to drink. Arya took pity on him and took over cooking breakfast, allowing him to sit at the kitchen table and stew in his shock. Their two companions were conspicuously absent.

"So… How long did you say this has been going on?" He asked eventually.

"At least the last month or so, I think." Arya answered as she stirred a pan of eggs. "I can't believe you didn't notice; they haven't exactly been hiding it very well."

"I'll say!" Sirius shuddered.

"Say what?" Tonks asked, sliding open the screen door and entering the cottage, Remus close behind.

Sirius leapt from the table in alarm, looking slightly wild around the eyes.

"Nothing! Not saying anything!"

Tonks raised her eyebrows at him, looking more than a little confused by his bizarre behavior.

"Got to go, actually, meeting with Dumbledore – very important – see you later!" And he practically dived into the floo, leaving Remus and Tonks standing stunned in his wake.

"Did he just leave… Without eating breakfast?" Remus asked in astonishment.

"I reckon he did. And in his sweaty workout clothes too. Do you think he's ill?" Tonks actually sounded concerned, and Arya couldn't repress a snigger.

"He's fine. Just a bit surprised to see you two snogging on the trail back there is all."

Arya would store the look of shocked embarrassment that appeared on their faces in a very safe place within her Liars Palace, so that she could re-visit the memory later. Tonks actually blushed to the very ends of her hair, and Remus could have beaten a tomato for redness.

Dumbledore's Office

Sirius stumbled out of the floo in Dumbledore's office feeling decidedly jumpy. He'd never had much interest in dating (a fact his occasional girlfriends at Hogwarts had been quick to take notice of), and he hadn't given consideration to the fact that Remus and Dora might have been heading in that direction for some time. Now that he knew, he thought that Arya might have been right; they had been quite obvious about it, he'd just been totally oblivious.

He did wish someone would have told him before he was presented with a visual of the two of them snogging like teenagers. And right in front of Arya, too! She was just a kid, she didn't need to see that… though she would be a teenager in just three years.

Sirius felt the blood drain from his face; she'd probably start dating around then. That wasn't that far off! He remembered what his friends had been like at school, and if Arya continued to look like her mother as she aged… Merlin, how was he supposed to beat the guys off her while she was in school and he was at the cottage?

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, observing him with a slight smile and a raised eyebrow, still wearing his dressing robe, and Sirius realized that he had arrived a good hour early for their appointment. He sank down into the chair opposite the headmaster, and looked at him beseechingly.

"I don't suppose any knew school rules preventing students snogging in broom cupboards has been implemented since I graduated, have they?"

Dumbledore did a poor job of hiding his smile behind a hand as he rubbed his beard.

"I'm afraid not. I've always believed a certain amount of freedom, away from the prying eyes of families, was good for the students."

Sirius looked as if he strongly disagreed, but merely shook his head and let the matter drop for the moment. He looked down at his sweaty track outfit, and then over at Dumbledore's dressing robe.

"I'll come back in an hour, shall I?"

"Certainly, my dear man."

Arya, Remus, and Tonks were seated at the kitchen table as Sirius tromped out of the floo to join them for breakfast. They all looked deeply amused, and also slightly concerned for his health. Remus was a bit red around the ears, and shot him a guilty look as he sat down.

Sirius glared at them as he took his seat and accepted a plate of sausages and eggs from Arya. He stabbed a sausage with his fork before using it to point at them accusingly.

"No snogging in front of me! You're my best mate, and you're my cousin, and I'm happy for you now that the shock is wearing off, but I don't want to see that!"

"To be fair, mate, it was a perfectly deserted path until you came snooping back. Not our fault you're nosy." Tonks replied, grinning happily at him.

They bantered back and forth while they ate, and Sirius had time to get used to the idea of the two of them together. To his surprise, he found that he actually was genuinely glad for them; they were a bizarre match, to be sure, but they seemed to fit together all the same.

By the time he finished eating, showering, and getting dressed, he had decided that it was a good thing they were together. Remus had always been like family to him, and now there was a good chance that he'd actually end up in the family for real. By the time he was heading through the floo again, he was warming to the idea of a nice wedding for the two of them, quickly followed by a succession of clumsy, rainbow haired little wolf babies. The two of them had probably not even discussed such a possibility yet, but once Sirius got an idea in his head he could go from zero to a hundred mighty fast.

He stepped from the hearth in Dumbledore's office much more composed than earlier, and dragged his mind back to reality from where it had been floating around with the idea of the cottage filled with small children who would call him 'uncle Sirius'.

His business with the headmaster today was actually of utmost importance; Dumbledore had been searching since their discovery of the locket and ring horcruxes for a means of destroying them, and he had written at the end of July that he had finally made progress. Sirius knew that Dumbledore had been traveling since the end of the last Hogwarts term, looking for something to help them in their cause; today he was to discover what the old wizard had been after.

The original idea had been to befriend Horace Slughorn with the hope that his numerous connections would include someone who could get their hands on basilisk venom; the walrus of a man had his hands in a lot of pies, so to speak, and at first they had maintained hope. Sirius had gently pried and hinted, not wanting to come off as too suspicious, and Slughorn had happily told them all about how impossible it was to get any, even for him.

Disappointed and desperate, they had turned the attempt over to Arya, who Slughorn adored; she had told him (all wide eyed innocence) about how she had read all about basilisks in her books, and wouldn't it just be _so _cool to have some of their very own? Sirius thought it was a tad over done, but Slughorn had melted at the batting of her lashes, and proceeded to attempt to find the extraordinarily rare magical substance.

He had been unsuccessful.

The last confirmed sighting of a basilisk had been over a hundred years ago, and the last one to be killed and its venom harvested had been centuries before that. The last of the venom had long since been used up. Short of buying a chicken egg and a toad and waiting for the Sirius star to be ascendant to hatch their own damn basilisk, and then waiting fifty years for it to grow to maturity, Sirius wasn't sure how to proceed.

They maintained their friendship with Horace, however. Dumbledore insisted that he would be useful to their quest in the long run, having had the closest relationship with Tom Riddle as a student and teacher; if Tom had ever gone to someone for advice, it would have been his mentor and head of house, Horace Slughorn.

Sirius took a seat across the desk again, and the two men, now fully dressed for the day, observed the three objects sitting on the desk before them. The locket and the ring lay side by side on the wooden surface, and this time Sirius thought he could feel something of the evil emanations that Dumbledore had described to him before; the very air of the room felt charged with a nervous and malevolent energy. It made him feel edgy.

On the other side of the desk was a wicked looking weapon of some kind, with a sword like blade, and straight handle with a curved blade ending with a point and a downward hook. It looked archaic, but in excellent condition; Sirius was familiar enough with goblin forged work to recognize something made by goblin hands.

"Is this what you've been after, Albus? If it was just a goblin forged weapon you wanted I could have gotten one from the old family vault."

"Ah, but this is not just a goblin made blade. This is an Egyptian Khopesh; this one in particular is the weapon of one of the pharaohs of Egypt, most famously known in our society for the defeat of one of the last confirmed basilisks. You, of course, are aware of the properties of goblin forged metals?"

Sirius shrugged, "Durable, impervious to magical and mundane damage…" he trailed off. "Absorbs substances which increase its power. Are you telling me this blade is imbued with basilisk venom?"

Dumbledore smiled.

"I am. I have spent many hours determining its location over the last few years, and managed to locate the correct tomb and obtain the blade this last month, with no small amount of effort, I assure you."

Sirius refrained from commenting on the implications that Dumbledore had crossed national borders and raided a pharaoh's tomb to obtain the ancient blade, no doubt breaking a dozen or so multi-national wizarding laws in the process.

"This will destroy them, then? Put them past the possibility of magical repair?" He asked instead.

"Well, it will destroy one of them; the ring is vulnerable to us now, though I expect the piece of soul within it will not go quietly once our intentions become focused. The locket, however, presents a different problem; as Kreacher discovered, no damage can be done to it while it remains closed. He was unable to open it, for all the strong magical abilities of his kind, and I have not been successful either."

"Fortunately, for all of Voldemorts phenomenal skill with magic, his mind remains decidedly one sided, and thus easy to predict. This is the locket of Slytherin, Voldemort is his heir, parsalmouth runs in the family, there is a snake on the front of the locket… I believe it will open if someone tells it to, in the correct tongue. Tom Riddle's style has always been painfully direct."

Sirius felt like a boulder had settled in his stomach.

"I'm not letting Arya within a mile of this thing when it opens." His voice sounded quite cold.

"I do not believe her presence will be necessary, Sirius. I see no reason that she wouldn't be able to simply teach us the word 'open' and leave the rest of it to us."

Sirius relaxed again. "She doesn't seem to be able to speak it unless there's an actual snake present, but she seems friendly with a few in the back garden. I'll see what we can come up with when I get back."

"Excellent. Now, for the matter of the ring; I believe the defenses of horcruxs are along the lines of manipulation and, in extreme cases, possession. Those who become emotionally attached to an object containing a fragment of soul open themselves to it, and thus become vulnerable to possession; I do not believe we have to worry overly much about this because we are on guard, and because such things take time which we are not inclined to spend. More likely in our scenario, the piece of soul contained in the ring will attempt to manipulate and dissuade us from destroying it. It is advisable therefore, that we not attempt it alone, and do our best to destroy it before it has time to get ahold of us."

"Destroying bits of Voldemort by stabbing them with a sword… Shall we get started then?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Indeed, I believe it is time."

He scooped the locket back into its protected drawer, leaving the ring sitting alone on the desk top; the air in the room felt charged, every muscle in Sirius's body suddenly felt tight with nerves. It seemed as if the bit of Voldemort inside the ring sensed their intentions, and was beginning to exude its defense.

True to his own advice, Dumbledore didn't give the ring any time to truly act against him; he went from passive conversation that hadn't provoked the soul fragment, to rapid action that spared no room for resistance.

Dumbledore sprang to his feet suddenly with the agility of a much younger man, with the strange curved weapon raised above his head; there was a strange sound emanating from the ring, as if a voice was beginning to speak to them, and Sirius abruptly felt the urge to listen to it; surely it wouldn't hurt to hear what it had to say? They might hear something useful!

And then the sword came down in a rush, and the stone of the ring cracked on impact, a fissure running down the middle of the line representing the elder wand. The noise cut off abruptly, and the urge that had gripped Sirius and made him want to listen vanished just as fast; the air in the room went back to normal, and Fawkes gave a low musical cry from his perch.

Dumbledore sat heavily in his chair, and laid the weapon down in front of him next to the now cracked ring, looking deeply shaken.

Sirius took a deep, calming breath.

"That was… much more, and much less than I imagined it would be. Do you think the stone will still work, or did we just destroy a Hallow, as well as a Horcrux?"

"I… I do not know. But I think we must find out. I didn't think using it while it was still linked to such an evil magic was advisable, but not that the soul fragment has been destroyed…" Dumbledore clasped his hands together and surveyed Sirius over the tips of his fingers. "Your brother may be the only person before us to discover Riddle's secret. He may have believed that only one was made, but he may have seen something that could point us in the direction of others, or hint at how many there might have been."

"You want me to bring Regulus back."

It wasn't really a question, but Dumbledore nodded conformation anyway.

Sirius picked the cracked ring up from the table in a shaking hand, examining the smooth polished surface with the fissure down the center.

"Just for a few moments, Sirius, if you are willing. I will give you the office for an hour…"

He swept from the office with a swish of sky-blue robes, and Sirius was left in the room with the phoenix and the resurrection stone.

Arya Lily Potter POV

When Sirius arrived home in the afternoon, Arya was in the backyard of the cottage, stretched out on a blanket in the grass with a book and her broomstick both laying discarded next to her. She cracked an eye open as he flopped down next to her, and gently scooched a small garden snake over on the blanket to give him more room.

Sirius looked rather exhausted, and she could tell that his eyes were a bit puffy, even though he had them closed with his face turned toward the sun.

"Rough day?"

"One hell of a day, kid."

She reached over and gripped his hand comfortingly, and they were silent for a moment, before Sirius spoke again in a scratchy voice.

"I used the resurrection stone."

Arya sat bolt upright, eyes wide but not saying anything. Sirius kept his eyes shut as he spoke, but a steady stream of tears was running down his temples to soak the sunny blanket.

"Had to ask about the Horcruxes, see if he could help us find more. He didn't know there was more than one, but Dumbledore thinks he may have given us a hint to find the next one… Said that Bella was bragging about being trusted above all the others, about being given an item of great value. Dumbledore says that Gringotts would appeal to him as a hiding place, with its history of magic and old family names…"

He dragged the back of his hand over his face, smearing the tears more than wiping them away.

"He was _almost_ there, Arya. More real than any ghost, but I couldn't even touch him. It felt like a resistance in the air, but not actually corporeal… I got to say I was sorry. And now he's just gone again."

Arya felt her heart squeeze with an uncomfortable surge of strong emotions; empathy with Sirius's pain, anger that she wasn't allowed to use the stone, envy so strong it hurt, relief that she was spared the pain that he was going through, and excitement that they might find another horcrux.

She decided that his grief was more important than her own mixed feelings, and tackled him with a hug to show her support; she didn't know how to be particularly articulate with comforting words, so a hug would have to do. He seemed to understand.

After another silence, Sirius spoke again in a calmer voice.

"Dumbledore thinks the locket will open if we command it to in parseltongue."

"Oh! I can-"

"Teach me how to say 'open'? Yes you can, thanks for offering." He cut her off.

She glared at him. "Fine. Its-" She made a strangled kind of hissing and spitting noise, and deposited the small garden snake on his lap. "Now you try it."

The little snake twined gently around his fingers, and he looked skeptically at it before trying to mimic the strange sound she had made. The snake hissed at him, and Arya gave in to a fit of giggles before explaining to him that he'd said a very rude word.

He actually flushed in embarrassment when she told him what he'd said, and she had to explain to the insulted reptile that he didn't mean it.

The lesson continued with much hilarity, and by the end of it Sirius swore that the small creature had actually rolled its eyes at him, though Arya informed him that it wasn't likely. He did manage to imitate Arya successfully though, and planned another visit with Dumbledore for the following week.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N. This isn't so much a chapter as it is a tantalizing cliff hanger designed to torment you while I'm on vacation for the next two weeks.

I know I'm evil. So sorry.

Chapter 30

October 15th

Remus John Lupin awoke early in the morning in mid-October with stiff muscles and a mild headache, and for once it wasn't due to an impending full moon. He hadn't slept well because thoughts of a recent argument he'd had with Nymphadora (_don't_ call me Nymphadora) the evening before; the depth of their relationship had increased more rapidly than any he'd had before, and he had been doing well with stamping down his natural feelings of inadequacy in favor of accepting his good fortune that the most amazing woman he'd ever met seemed to be in love with him. However, yesterday they had reached a subject that had long haunted his dreams and hopes for his own future, and it was not something that even his new-found self-confidence could fix; he was never going to have children.

He had never heard of another werewolf reproducing; he hated even imagining the horror of an infant infected with lycanthropy, never even standing a chance of having a normal life, all because it's parent had passed the infection to it.

When he was feeling particularly melancholy he would sometimes allow himself to imagine that his life was different; he could easily see himself as a dad, especially now that he had a partner that he loved and a job that could easily support a family. It was a form of torture to torment himself with such imaginings, and he had tried to put it out of his mind as much as possible; he thought he'd have more time before he and Dora got to the point in their relationship where they talked of such things, but whether because they had been friends for so long before they began dating, or just because they were both so certain of their own feelings, they had reached the ill-fated discussion much sooner than anticipated.

In the back of his mind Remus had selfishly hoped that Dora didn't even want children, but he knew now that she did. And she deserved that; deserved to have a family like she had always wanted, deserved a normal life that he would never be able to give her.

Remus had decided when they first started dating that he was going to hold on to her for as long as possible; he loved her, and she had made her own feelings perfectly clear as well. He didn't doubt her in the slightest, but he didn't know how they were going to get through this problem together; if she stayed with him, she'd be giving up any chance of having children.

Werewolves and their partners were prohibited from attaining children through adoption or other alternative means, and though he was making progress against such discrimination they were no-where near the point of revoking the Ministry regulations in that regard.

The last few months with Dora had been bliss, but a heaviness was settled in the pit of his stomach as he made his way through his morning routine, getting ready for a day at the office. Dora had looked so disappointed when he had told her that he wouldn't ever be able to have children, and her look of sadness as she had left for the night was haunting him in the morning.

Feeling groggy from his restless night and distracted by his troubled thoughts, he had already tried his office door, and found to his surprise that it was still locked, before he realized that something else was wrong as well.

Someone had painted graffiti on the door.

"WHERE'S YOUR BODDY GUARD, WEREWOLF SCUM? YOU'RE NEXT"

The heaviness in his heart suddenly had it sinking to the ground; the retired magical enforcement officer that he had hired after taking over the company was usually in the office a good hour before Remus, checking over the warding spells and assessing the days threats that still came for him through the mail. His name was Gordon, and Remus had come to be friends with him after he had been working for him for a few weeks; he was competent and friendly, and refreshingly free of prejudice.

Remus had expected an attack on himself, and Gordon had prevented several curses hidden in his mail from reaching him, but it seemed as if someone had taken out their hatred on someone else, perhaps after trying and failing to hurt Remus directly.

Remus wanted to apparate to Gordon's house to check if he was alright, or if the person responsible for the threatening message had seriously hurt him, but he stopped himself from rushing off; he knew what Dora, or Gordon himself, would say to him if he rushed off into a possible ambush.

He raised his wand instead and sent a patronus to the Auror department, relaying his call for help.

As he waited for aurors to arrive, he stood still and silent in front of the hateful message smeared across the wooden frame, wondering why it was that when things began to go wrong, it all seemed to happen at once.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N.**** I've been gone much longer than intended, sorry for the extended delay! If it's any consolation for my evil cliff hanger, my vacation consisted of four days of hard manual labor, camping in the pouring rain, and then evacuation from flash flooding and two more days of manual labor. **

**I'm dealing with an unexpected health issue at the moment as well, which is throwing a crimp in my writing, but things should at least be more consistent now, and hopefully back to regularly updated chapters! **

**Thanks for sticking with me, and part two of this chapter should be up sometime early next week!**

Chapter 31

Nymphadora (_Don't_ call me Nymphadora) Tonks

Tonks arrived a good three hours early to work the morning after her gut-wrenching discussion with Remus, filled with new-found determination. She had fallen asleep the night before as she had moped her way through a pint of rocky road ice cream, and had awoken at three in the morning with melted ice cream on her lap, and a fully formed plan of action.

Unlike Remus, she lacked the disposition for maintaining extended gloominess, and had sprung back into action before most of her coworkers had even woken up. It was now seven in the morning, and she was resting in the office Moody grudgingly shared with his apprentice, with a smug smile on her lips and her boots resting on top of a neglected stack of paperwork. She had composed, written, and posted over thirty letters in the last three hours, and now all that remained was to wait for the responses to come pouring in; she hadn't doubted Remus's conviction that the future she had dreamed for them was impossible the night before, but after sleeping on it, she had woken with a conviction of her own.

Werewolves were a small percentage of the overall population of the world, but they had existed for a very long time and their numbers were not inconsequential; despite Remus's belief that werewolves never bred, Tonks found it highly unlikely that the situation had never occurred before. If lycanthropy didn't directly prevent pregnancy, than it must have happened, not just once, but many times throughout history; she wasn't going to give up until she had all the information. Polite society didn't like to acknowledge that werewolves existed, much less discus their breeding habits, and werewolf societies were incredibly reclusive; Remus, who had been isolated from much of wizarding society, and had also separated himself from the werewolf colonies, very likely had never actually inquired about the situation. He did have a tendency to assume the worst.

Remus also didn't have the connections that she did, nor the authority that being (almost) and Auror lent her. She had reached out to a friend in the department of International Cooperation in her efforts to contact friends and families of werewolves across several countries, and she hoped she wouldn't get in too much trouble for signing each letter as 'Auror in Training, N. Tonks'. She had also sent letters to some of the people Remus employed at the Daily Prophet, slightly amused that he probably hadn't even thought to ask his werewolf employees about it.

Tonks didn't think that his worry was unfounded; she simply wasn't willing to believe it without evidence.

She was smothering a yawn and peeling a half finished report to work on from the bottom of her steel toed boots when Moody entered his office, magical eye spinning wildly and looking even grimmer than usual.

"Patronus just arrived at the intake center, there's been a possible attack."

Tonks flung the parchment with her boot print on it back onto the desk as she sprang to her feet, but Moody wasn't stumping his way out of the office like he normally would be at this point.

She raised an eyebrow at him in a silent question.

"Patronus was from Remus Lupin, says his bodyguard is missing and a threatening message has been painted on his office door. You can be on this case because of a technicality; you're still a trainee, not an Auror. If I think you're not handling it, I'm sending you home, understand?"

Tonks gritted her teeth and felt her hand clutch convulsively around her wand, a ball of cold steel clenching in her chest. Moody's magical and mundane eyes were staring sternly at her, and she took a deep breath before nodding in grudging compliance; she was perfectly capable of self-restraint.

Moody nodded back, and then pivoted on his wooden leg, leading the way out of the office, and waving for a team of law enforcement officers to accompany them out.

What followed started as fairly standard procedure for the type of situation, and Tonks did her best to remain calm as the day proceeded. She and Moody met Remus at the Daily Prophet office building, and the law enforcement team did a sweep of the building as they took his statement and checked the office itself for hidden curses; there were none, as it appeared Remus's hired man was competent with warding and protection spells. Moody ordered Tonks to stay with Remus while he led the team on a search for the missing bodyguard, whom several of the old enforcement officers new from when he had worked in their department. Tonks was happy to have a private moment with Remus, but didn't like being left out of the action either.

She tried several of her mother's most potent cleaning spells on the hateful message before finding one that was sufficient for removing it. Then, although supposedly there to collect names of his employees that might have been involved, she instead sat down on top of him where he was seated behind his desk, and gave him the best hug she could manage.

However they had left things the night before, it was no reason to withhold any comfort she could give him now. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder, and they sat like that for several minutes in silence.

She already knew which employees he'd had trouble with before, and she was sure that Moody would allow her to head that part of the investigation over the next few days; she sometimes forgot that she was only a trainee still, half the time she treated as the full Aurors were, a fact that her fellow trainees hated. She eventually moved seats and suggested they find out which employees had been present in between the time he'd left the evening before, and arrived again in the morning; it wasn't a small list, as there was a large number of staff that worked the nights shift in order to get the morning edition out on time. Remus named off those that he thought unlikely to be involved, and Tonks crossed them off (if she didn't find a likely suspect amongst the others, she would interview even those Remus trusted). There were also employees who didn't have access to this part of the building, and she was able to cross those off as well. She made a point of asking about those who would have had to pass by his office to get to their own work space; it was likely one of them should have seen and reported the vandalism, but none had.

She sent the shortened list of names to the Ministry which would send out notifications that they were to come in for an interview, as was standard procedure. If she was lucky, one of them would attempt to run and give them-selves away. Remus was disturbed to think that those he worked with would have been involved, but he wasn't naïve; he knew it was more likely than not.

Tonks could tell that he was growing more worried for his missing companion as time passed with no word from Mad Eye; Tonks knew that he was fond of the man, and she kept him talking in an attempt to keep his mind off his worry. She asked a lot of questions, and took notes on a note pad as he talked, writing down anything that might be significant. She was familiar with some of what he talked about already, because all of the particularly interesting work-place events had come up in conversations between them before. Although becoming personally involved in cases was discouraged, she felt that she actually had an advantage due to her familiarity with Remus and his situation.

"You really think someone on the inside did this, Dora?"

Tonks looked up from the notes she was making, and considered her answer carefully.

"I… I think it's more likely than not. But it doesn't entirely make sense; why attack your bodyguard where you're not even present? It feels more like a threat, like an attempt to make you back down and leave. You're so protected outside of your work that attacking you here would make more sense, even with someone guarding you, though it would make it harder for them to get away unseen… This might just be an attempt to scare you off. We won't know how serious this is until we find Gordon; if they stunned him and left him to make a statement I won't be too concerned. But… If they hurt him badly, or if they killed him, then I'd assume this is the first part of a larger whole."

She rocked back in her chair slightly, talking it out to make sense of it.

"Also, we might not be dealing with one person. If someone who didn't work here wanted to hurt you, reaching out to an employee with access to you makes sense. If it's one employee working alone, chances are we'll find them quickly. Two people though… One to attack Gordon outside of the work place and one to write the threatening message on your door… And this isn't like a personal crime from one person to another, where other people would be less willing to get involved; so many people harbor hatred for werewolves that they're more likely to group up. Finding others to join in the crime would be much easier than if this were a personal grudge."

"So we either have one idiot who works for me, or an outside manipulator who hired some idiot on the inside?" Remus asked.

Tonks grinned at his interpretation of her musings.

"Something like that, yeah. I'll have a better idea which one it is after Moody gets back."

Right on cue, the door swung open and Moody stumped through waving for the rest of the team to wait outside as he closed the door behind him and placed a spell over the entrance.

"Found him just down the street from where he lives, looked like he was ambushed on his way to the nearest apparition point." Moody said without preamble. "The healers say he'll make it, but it was a close call. We flushed someone out of hiding in an alley nearby; bastard dissaperated as soon as we got near to Gordon, - likely they were hoping that you'd rush off to check on him yourself, Remus."

Remus sighed in relief when he heard that his friend was going to make it, but Tonks felt her stomach twist uncomfortably; when Moody said someone would 'make it', that meant it had been bad. Moody tended to state what most people would call 'major injuries' as 'scratches'. Knowing that the attack had been serious helped her decide what they were dealing with though, and she leaned over her list of names again, checking the times that shifts started and ended.

"What are you after, lass?" Moody asked gruffly.

"Just a moment… Hah! Here, four people on the night shift maintenance crew; their shift starts at twelve pm, and lets off at six in the morning, before the morning shift begins for most employees. There might still be more than one person involved, but assuming the same person vandalized the office and attacked Gordon… Looks like Willy Widdershins clocked out an hour early. Remus, didn't you say Gordon usually gets in early in the day to secure the area? Widdershins would have had time to mark the door after this area had already been cleaned, make an excuse to leave early, and then lie in wait for Gordon down the street he'd be walking down on his way to work."

"Why does that name sound familiar?" Moody grunted.

"Arrested for petty theft and peddling goods on the black market." Tonks answered, suddenly remembering the case Moody had handled back when she had first started training with him. It had been fairly unremarkable. "Had a few run ins with the Improper Use of Magic office as well, if I remember correctly? Several cases of muggle baiting, I think.

Remus dug through a file in his desk drawer, and pulled out the employee file for Willy Widdershins.

"Why would your company hire a known criminal, Lupin?" Moody asked in exasperation.

Remus looked up from the file and raised an eyebrow sardonically. "Here's a nice coincidence for you; Willy Widdershins was placed here through the Ministry run rehabilitation program for reforming felons."

Moody's face darkened even further as he reached out and took the file from Remus, scanning the page quickly. He tossed it down on the desk when he was done, and finally sat down in a chair that was placed against the far wall. He looked as pensive as his scarred face would allow, and he and Remus shared a significant look.

"What am I missing?" Tonks asked.

Moody's mad eye was spinning wildly in all directions as he answered her, his voice quite but steady.

"I don't trust in coincidences, Lass, and this happens to be a rather large one. The rehabilitation program was started years ago, by the head of the Improper Use of Magic Office at the time. The program is allegedly meant to reform minor criminals by way of finding and placing them in respectable careers, but there's a history of vastly reduced sentencing for those who opt to enter the program."

Tonks shrugged her shoulders in confusion. Offering reduced sentences as inducement for reforming made sense to her.

"The thing is, there have also been rumors of charges being entirely dropped, and cases shoved under the rug when these people relapse in their criminal habits. Repeat offenders who are also in the program have been receiving special treatment and favors, and I for one don't believe that the Ministry is in the habit of doing favors for petty criminals, - unless of course, they're getting something in return."

Now Tonks saw what he was getting at. She leaned forward in her chair eagerly.

"You're saying that someone in the Ministry is profiting from thess people somehow, and in return their cases get thrown out? Are they getting kickbacks from stolen goods? That doesn't seem to be worth the risk of getting caught…"

Moody shook his head. "Material goods or money would be too easy to track, and you're right, - not worth the risk of getting caught in something like this. I think someone has been setting up a ring of informants, and in this case, maybe… Something more."

Tonks felt her eyebrows rise toward her hair line. "You're implying someone from the Ministry ordered this hit?" she asked in astonishment.

It was Remus who answered.

"Not just someone, Dora. The head of office at the time still retains control of the program now, even though she's changed positions within the ministry. Delores Umbridge hasn't exactly been quiet about her hatred of werewolves and other half-breeds; Dumbledore has had a hell of a time blocking her anti werewolf legislation."

"I've been trying to find something on her for years." Moody added. "Nasty things tend to happen to people who've questioned her over the years, and everyone I've questioned in connection to her mysteriously can't seem to remember anything. I suspect memory tampering, blackmail, and bribery. Bribing low level thugs through her 'charitable' program would be a clever way of keeping her hands clean of the dirty work."

"That old Toad! You really think she had the guts to try something this extreme?" Tonks asked.

It was clear by their expressions that they both Remus and Moody thought it entirely possible.

"Huh,' she leaned back in her chair, a half formed plan taking shape in the back of her mind. "So, what are we going to do about it?"

Moody granted her a rare grin, his scarred and gouged face crinkling in a gruesome caricature of mirth. She grinned back just as evilly, leaving Remus to ponder the similarities between his lover and the gruff old Auror with more than slight discomfort.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N. Here it is, as promised! Part three in this sequence will hopefully be out by the end of Friday as well. **

**Thanks for reading, and thanks to those of you who review as well! **

Chapter 32

To Catch a Toad

Arya and Sirius sat on the old sofa in the cottage with the cat curled up between them and a warm fire crackling in the wood burning stove as the Autumn day drew to a close. Arya was supposed to be drafting a letter to her mysterious occlemency tutor, and Sirius was supposed to be drafting a proposal for his fellow Hogwarts governors, but both of them were stalled in their work as they observed the strange scene taking place in front of them.

Remus Lupin was standing in the kitchen, rummaging around in the cupboards in search of his stash of chocolate biscuits, and the other Remus Lupin was seated at the kitchen table poring over several stacks of parchment and files.

Sirius passed her a bag of potato crisps, and Arya grabbed a handful, eyes glued to the two Remus's in the kitchen.

"So, do you eat lunch in your office, or do you go to the cafeteria?" The Remus at the table asked, still rifling through the paper work in front of him.

"Gordon and I eat lunch together most days, either in my office or in the cafeteria. He won't be there, so it wouldn't seem weird for you to stay in the office alone."

The other Remus joined himself at the table, setting a plate of biscuits down amongst the parchment. His doppelganger nodded, scribbling notes down on a half-filled sheet and helping himself to a chocolate biscuit.

"Alright. What's generally next on your schedule?" he asked, after finishing writing his sentence.

Arya continued to look back and forth between them as they discussed Remus's usual business schedule, trying to find discrepancies in their appearance. She couldn't find any; Tonks' imitation was precise, made all the more convincing because she was wearing his actual clothes.

The entire scene was surreal to watch. Arya had known that Tonks was capable of imitating someone, but seeing it done made her head hurt. The two of them had been going over details all evening; Tonks had to memorize names and pictures, business meeting agendas, current projects and the layout of the office building, as well as perfect Remus's mannerisms and speaking patterns. She insisted that taking his shape and wearing his clothes would help her get into character, and she confided that it would take her some time to get used to the new proportions of her body. If she didn't get accustomed to it she'd be falling all over herself when she tried to walk the next day.

Sirius seemed to find the situation as bizarre as Arya did, and the two of them had been sitting on the sofa, content to watch events unfold in front of them. Arya shot an occasional glance his way as well, and was glad to see that he hadn't fallen back into the funky mood he'd been in since the end of August.

After he'd had her teach him the word 'open' in parsoltongue and gone off to confront the locket with Dumbledore, he'd become quite depressed for several weeks afterward. He'd been closed mouthed as to the reason for his down trodden mood, and for several weeks neither she nor Remus could get him to open up about it. They'd assumed that it had to do with the confrontation with the locket horcrux, but all he'd said on the matter was that they'd managed to destroy it. Arya thought that was something to be happy about, and hadn't been able to understand what was wrong.

It was toward the end of September, while Remus was away for the night (probably at Tonks' flat), that Sirius had finally told her what had happened. As part of the Horcrux's defenses, the locket had pulled from Sirius's mind knowledge of his fears and desires, and used them against him in an attempt to distract him from his attempt to destroy it. His guilt over the part he'd unintentionally played in James and Lily's deaths was thrown in his face by phantom images of his oldest friends, and Arya herself had appeared before him to lament how inadequate of a parent he was. He'd come to his senses when the piece of soul attempted to turn him against Dumbledore, telling him that it was Dumbledore's fault that he'd ended up in Azkaban; Sirius had brought the weapon down, shattering the locket and stopping the insidious lies for good.

Destroying the Horcrux hadn't stopped its words from haunting him, however. The power of the locket was that it didn't lie in a straight forward manner, - it used truth and lies mixed, and pulled your weaknesses from your own mind.

Arya had made sure to tell him how much she loved him, and that she thought he was the best parent she could have ever hoped for. She'd also suggested that he join her for occlemency practice, which he'd begun to do. He already knew how it was done, but his years in prison had eroded his skill and mental barriers; he was forced to start from the ground up. Tonks and Remus had expressed interest in learning as well, and Dumbledore soon found himself with four students instead of one; of them all, the ten year old was the most proficient by far. Tonks had learned enough from Moody to keep her intentions in a fight hidden, but Remus had never learned more than the basics.

Sirius seemed back to his normal self now though, and Arya turned her attention back to their two identical friends, just in time to hear Tonks remark about how uncomfortable certain bits of male anatomy were. Sirius roared with laughter, and Remus didn't seem to know how to respond to her (him?). Arya felt her eyes widen in surprise; she supposed she should have figured that metemorphogi could change their gender at will, but she hadn't really considered it before.

Neither Remus or Sirius looked surprised though, so Arya just shrugged it off. If Tonks had wanted to be male rather than female she wouldn't have chosen the form she wore on a daily basis to be female.

"I still don't see why we're doing this, Dora. Why not just put a tail of Aurors on me and let me go about my business as usual?"

"Moody already told you; we're not allowed to involve civilians in this kind of operation. Besides, there's still enough prejudice against werewolves in the courts that your testimony on trial could be called into question. If this plan works, I'll be the one on the receiving end of the attack, and it'll be my testimony that nails this prick, and the Toad as well."

'The Toad' had become their code name for Delores Umbridge, the woman that they were convinced was behind the attack on Remus's bodyguard. The name was familiar to Arya because the woman had been campaigning against werewolf rights since before Arya had even moved into the cottage. The Toad was often on the receiving end of some very rude language around the house; by the sounds of it, she was a sickeningly evil woman with a dangerous amount of influence at the ministry.

"I don't like the idea of making you the target, Dora" Remus didn't seem to notice how odd he looked, sitting at the table, holding his own hand and looking at himself with such love in his eyes.

Arya idly wondered if that was how Sirius looked at his reflection in the mirror, and was forced to hide a snort at her unkind thought by pretending to choke on her crisps.

"I know, Remus. But the idea is to look vulnerable, not actually _be _vulnerable; several Aurors disguised as employees and civilians will be tailing me everywhere, including Moody. I'll be fine."

The basis of the plan was to plant rumors of a fake lead, hoping that word of their miss-direction would filter through the ministry to the Toad, and tempt her into ordering a second attack. Tonks and Moody had gotten back to the ministry in time to stop the summons for interviews from going out, so as far as Willy Widdershins knew, he had gotten away clean. If they took the bait, they'd be able to take him in for questioning, and he'd hopefully lead them straight to his employer, the Toad. According to Tonks, Moody had been quietly searching for dirt on the woman for years, but she'd covered her tracks too well, and he hadn't wanted her to catch on that he suspected her. Their current plan was the first opportunity to snag her that he'd found.

In the Auror office, Moody was currently pretending to investigate one of the more persistent of Remus's hate mailers. Tonks felt no guilt that the man was going to be brought in and interrogated as part of their pretense; he was a bigoted arse through and through.

As the evening wore on, Arya refocused her attention on the letter she was composing. In a few months it would be two years since she had started studying occlemency with Dumbledore, and even her dour correspondent admitted that her progress was formidable. They were reaching the point where he didn't think he'd be able to teach her more until they were able to have lessons face to face, which would be all well and good if either of them had a clue who the other was.

Dumbledore had explained the need to remain secretive by reasoning that if her tutor became known as a master occlemence, his skill would be rendered useless in the future, because everyone would know what he was capable of. But that had been at the beginning, - now that she was proficient at the art herself, she thought it would be safe to learn the identity of her teacher. Dumbledore had stalled, and then ruefully acknowledged that he had expected her to take longer to learn than she had, and that he'd been counting on her being at least of Hogwarts age before being ready for the next step.

The result was that she was just going to have to wait, and keep up with practicing and building her liars palace. Part of her practice now included helping Remus, Sirius, and Tonks perfect their mental barriers, and it was a good thing the three adults had a good sense of humor, or being taught by a ten year old might have injured their pride.

Dumbledore's admission that he had planned on her occlemency lessons beginning with her Hogwarts attendance gave her plenty to think about in the meantime; she thought it likely that her teacher might actually _be_ a teacher there. While it was fun to speculate, she resisted prying. Their correspondence, since there wasn't much to say on the subject of occlemency that they hadn't already covered, had digressed to what could politely be called bickering. He was still convinced that she was naïve and insisted that she would be weak until she accepted a more realistic view of the world. He seemed to think that her trust in her family and friends was misplaced, and that she would be better off if she showed her true emotions to no one.

Arya disagreed whole heartedly, - if she became the person her Liars Palace made her out to be in truth, than what was the point of creating it to hide herself in the first place? The whole point of the process, to her mind, was to keep her friends and relatives safe; if she withdrew from them, than what was the point of anything? Perhaps her teacher was only trying to protect himself, but Arya had a broader goal.

She finished her letter around the same time as Tonks announced that she was ready to call it a night, and turned herself back into her normal form long enough to kiss Remus goodnight before heading to her flat thru the floo.

Arya dropped her letter on the table for later delivery, and snagged a chocolate biscuit before heading off to bed. Remus had been instructed to stay within the perimeter of the cottage grounds until the whole situation had blown over, and Sirius and Arya had made plans for cooking, flying, and card games in order to keep his mind off worrying about Tonks.

Arya was determined to be well rested in order to trounce them both at quiditch and exploding snap the next day.

Tonks POV

In her flat in London, Tonks was preparing for the part she had to play the next day; her familiarity with Remus was truly a blessing for the case, - she made a very convincing Remus Lupin. She was certain that she had a good grasp on what she had to do the next day, so her remaining preparation mostly consisted of walking loops around her apartment. Remus was taller than her normal form, had bigger feet, and was definitely male. Simply moving was different than was normal for her, and she had to make sure the proportions wouldn't cause her to be even clumsier than usual.

She'd turned herself into a guy before, but it was always a weird experience, and she had discovered early on that if her normal shape shifting made people uncomfortable, changing genders made them freak out entirely. A part of her had worried that Remus would be disgusted by her imitation of himself, but once again he had proved that she was right to love him, - he accepted her no matter what body she was wearing.

She was picking herself off the floor for the fifth time when she heard an owl tap on her kitchen window, and felt her heart skip a beat when she opened the roll of parchment. With all the chaos and scheming of the day, she had almost forgotten what she had spent her early morning doing.

The letter was from one of the werewolves she had reached out to, - a man who lived in France who was active in the French Ministry as an advocate of werewolf rights in his country. The long length of the letter gave her hope that the situation wasn't as simple as Remus believed, and she sat eagerly at her kitchen counter to read. She scanned through it so quickly the first time through that she didn't take much of it in, and forced herself to slow down, take a few deep breaths, and read it over a second time with more care.

She felt her heart swell with warmth and hope as she finished and scanned it a third time, a weight lifting from her shoulders that she hadn't fully acknowledged was there. She hadn't wanted to admit to herself how scared she had been that Remus was right.

Not only did her correspondent know if the situation had arisen before, he was in fact friends with a fellow werewolf who was married and had children. He informed her kindly that the lycanthropy had not passed on to any of the children, though it could be argued that there was a slight transference of the disease, - a slight moodiness and display of aggression on full moon nights was common, as was a prevailing preference of rare meat, and acute sharpening of hearing and smelling.

Tonks felt like laughing; food craving, moodiness and slight aggression once a month were familiar symptoms.

The future she had imagined with Remus was still possible; the last piece of self-doubt that had been holding him back was unfounded. With that weight removed from her shoulders, her next day suddenly seemed much easier, - in fact, impersonating her boyfriend for a day suddenly sounded like great fun.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N. ****Sorry for the delay, being an adult sure likes to get in the way of my writing sometimes. **

**Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read this huge long story, and especially everyone who reviews! The encouragement is truly appreciated. **

**I would also like to clarify that if you see another story about "Arya Lily Potter", it was not written by me, with my participation, permission, or knowledge. This is the only story I write.**

Chapter 33

Nymphadora (Don't call me Nymphadora) Tonks POV

Tonks had pulled off her first impersonation at the age of eleven, when she had transformed into her Hogwarts head of House to avoid detention for wandering the corridors at night. She had learned a lot since then, and she walked confidently down the hallway to Remus's office, taking care to imitate his way of moving and carrying himself.

Many people made obvious mistakes when they were trying to pull off a con; if they felt guilty, they acted guilty. Looking over your shoulder, creeping instead of walking, hunched back instead of straight, - these were all instinctual behaviors when you were trying to infiltrate somewhere you knew you weren't supposed to be. They were the same mistakes children often made when sneaking into the kitchen to steal cookies; it was amusing that many adult Aurors displayed similar behavior when on missions. Tonks had learned at the age of seven that the best way to sneak cookies was to act as if she had every right to walk through the kitchen, and she had learned at Hogwarts that it was incredibly easy impersonate staff; act natural, and people would see what they expected to see.

If you made mistakes, like mixing up someone's name, or taking a wrong turn down a hallway, chances are that everyone would believe whatever excuse you fed them before suspecting that you were an imposter. Tell them you're tired, or partied too much the night before; shake your head and laugh, apologize and move on. Don't become flustered, don't wipe at sweat, don't stutter, and chances were that you could get away with anything.

Tonks had a lot of practice, first at Hogwarts pulling pranks, and more recently in her attempts to avoid Moody's ambushes; he didn't know to attack her if she impersonated a random ministry employee as she went to and from work. She knew that if she could fool Moody, no one at the Daily Prophet stood a chance.

She smiled at a passing woman, the details of her studies automatically coming to mind; her name was Maria, she was married with two daughters, had been working for the Prophet for five years, and was friendly with Remus and Gordon.

Maria smiled back, and asked after Gordon with sincere concern, - Tonks assured her that he was going to be okay, and asked how her oldest daughter liked Hogwarts. Maria told her that she was home sick but liked classes and had made some friends, and then they parted ways, Tonks entering the office and Maria heading to her desk.

Tonks smiled as she entered the office, her heart beating a bit faster, the familiar thrill of pulling off a good prank emerging. This wasn't so different from her trouble making Hogwarts days, though the stakes were much higher. At Hogwarts she had risked detention, now she was risking her life.

She had taken as many precautions as possible, including several Aurors placed inside and outside the building, discreetly watching her back. She, as Remus, had already hired a fill-in bodyguard until Gordon was able to come back, but the man was for appearances only, as it would look weird for Remus to receive a threat and then go about without protection. The new man was intentionally non-threatening; a slovenly drunk that even Willy Widdershins should feel comfortable taking down. He was already late, probably slumped over a bar somewhere after a long night of drinking. Tonks wasn't sure where Moody had scrapped the man up from, but apparently the rule about not involving civilians was more lax with some people than others.

As she settled behind Remus's desk, she considered the possibility that the man had already been taken out on his way in. She had casually complained to a co-worker on the way into the building about her new hire being late already, so whether he actually turned up or not was immaterial,- workplace gossip would let everyone know that Remus had hired more protection. She propped her boots up on the desk, allowing herself to relax where no one could see her. It might actually be better if the man didn't show up; it would leave her looking even more exposed.

She sighed and took her feet off the desk, spreading out various official looking parchments on the surface instead. Remus had several meetings with people planned today, and she had to keep up at least the appearance of being busy. The sad truth about her exciting mission was that nothing was likely to happen; if she was going after someone, she'd spend at least a day staking them out. She had even devised a new habit for Remus to take on, hoping that her attacker would take the opportunity she was apparently giving him, - smoke breaks.

Just before lunch, after she had pulled off several meetings, she pretended to get restless, and headed for the exit of the building. Outside, there was a small courtyard that was designed to repel muggles who might otherwise have wandered in from muggle London, and it was here that Prophet employees tended to gather for smoke breaks.

Tonks recognized a man from her studies that was on friendly terms with Remus, and she wandered over to him and struck up a conversation as she pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Pipes were more common among the older generation, but had long since gone out of style among most of wizarding society. She lamented the start-up of an old bad habit as she lit it with her wand tip, and confessed that it was the stress of the whole situation that was bringing it on.

Tonks hadn't had a cigarette since her sixth year of Hogwarts, but she had bought a pack the night before and smoked a few to make sure she could still manage it without coughing or puking.

Her new friend was nodding in understanding, and they continued to chat idly and then head their separate ways for lunch. Tonks entered muggle London and made her way to a small pub for lunch, having decided that staying in the office to eat wouldn't give her attacker as good a shot at her as going out would. She carefully didn't look at the spots where she knew Aurors would be hiding.

Her bodyguard showed up after she was back in her office, smelling strongly of booze and unwashed clothes. She reprimanded him soundly, warned him that if it happened again he'd be fired, and then set him to guarding the door.

Nothing happened for the rest of the day, though she took two more smoke breaks to set the pattern before using the floo to return to the cottage where the real Remus would be waiting for an update. She sent a patronus to Moody to let him know she had made it home safe, and to set a time to meet up that night to share information, hugged Remus, waved to Arya and Sirius, and then headed straight for the shower, eager to wash off the scent of smoke.

She had time to play a round of exploding snap with the others and then have dinner with them, and then she was off to her meeting with Mad-Eye, and the whole process would repeat the next day. And the day after that, and the day after that…

It was Thursday before their trap was sprung, and she had begun to worry that they had badly miscalculated. Moody had assured her that she just needed to have patience, which was funny coming from one of the most impatient people she knew, but he had turned out to be right; it was during her third smoke break of the day, as she was standing with her back carefully against a wall (her useless bodyguard still inside, guarding her empty office), when a sharp movement up and to her right caught her eye. She let her carefully honed instincts guide her, and ducked into a roll to her left just as a spell shot at her, striking the wall behind where she had been standing a moment before.

Oddly, her first emotion about the attack was relief that she had been correct to dive out of the way, and wouldn't have to explain her odd actions to the people sharing the courtyard with her like she would have if no attack had followed.

She drew her wand and cast a powerful shielding charm over the courtyard as people screamed and milled about in confusion; her main job had been to draw an attack, and then to shield anyone endangered by the ensuing fight. As much as she would have liked to rush off in pursuit, she knew that Moody and the team of law enforcement officers would take care of the rest.

The ensuing scene was actually a bit pathetic to watch, like witnessing a swarm of nifflers descending on a Witch Weekly's jewelry model.

The seemingly muggle street outside of the courtyard was suddenly awash with Aurors, who dropped their disguises and disillusionment spells to pursue their target. Spells to prevent disapperation were placed on the entire street immediately, and from there it was a short struggle that took place on the flat surface of a nearby muggle shop roof. Her attacker realized his predicament and attempted to make a run of it as Aurors took to their brooms in chase. It was Moody's well placed stunner that took the fleeing man in the back; he dropped like a rock, crashing down the rickety fire escape and landing in a heap on the ground.

Tonks resisted the urge to jump up and down in excitement, knowing that Moody would give her a stern talking to if she dropped her guard before receiving the all clear. However certain they were that there was only one attacker, Moody was living proof that it paid to be paranoid in their line of work.

Instead of celebrating, she focused on calming the milling and confused people around her, explaining that it was Ministry business and asking them to remain calm and gather under the protection of her shield charm. A few of the steadier wizards and witches drew their wands and added shield charms of their own. Tonks nodded approvingly, even though she suspected it was unnecessary. She also maintained Remus's appearance, - the less people knew of the full extent of her abilities, the better.

A woman that had struck up conversations with her over her four days of impersonating Remus was clutching at her arm, exclaiming in a breathy voice about how brave and heroic he was. Tonks fought the urge to roll her eyes and shake her off, - every previous encounter had involved the woman giggling over everything she said and poor attempts at letting Remus know she was available. Her name was Avery something, and Remus had pointed her out as behaving suspiciously while Tonks had been memorizing names and faces.

Trust Remus to confuse being hit on with suspicious behavior.

Tonks shook her off, and a few moments later received the signal that meant the area had been cleared. She let her charm drop and joined Moody and a group of Aurors where they were gathering around the limp form of Remus's attacker. Moody nodded to her gravely, and then unceremoniously used his wooden leg to roll the prone figure over; as they had all expected, it was the face of Willy Widdershins, a bit the worse for wear from his tumble down the stairs.

Moody barred his teeth in his vicious smile, and Tonks' answering grin was just as predatory. Their link to the Toad had fallen perfectly into their trap.

Delores Jane Umbridge (The Toad) POV

Delores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, was in a foul mood. Looking back at the last week, she knew she should have aborted the plan after the foul werewolf had failed to fall into her ambush, but she had been certain that the situation had been salvageable. The Aurors had gone haring after the wrong man, and though Willy Widdershins had been too scared to go back to work, he had been willing (after some persuasion) to stake out the outside of the building.

They had waited for days, making sure that nothing was amiss, - the fool half-breed had hired an old drunk for a bodyguard, and begun taking smoke breaks outside of the building; the opportunity had been impossible to resist.

She scowled down at her lap, her hands clenching and unclenching around her short wand wand. It had all been a trap, orchestrated by the paranoid old lunatic and his mutant freak of an apprentice. She still didn't know how he had done it, and she was terribly disappointed with her connections in that office for failing to tell her of their plan.

She glanced at the clock on her office wall, noting that the day was drawing to a close. She felt unusually tired, having had to keep up appearances all day when she had longed to track down those who had thwarted her and make them pay for their crimes instead. She took a deep breath and fetched a cup of tea for herself as she waited for her expected visitor, adding extra sugar to help calm her nerves; she had the situation under control.

They were holding Widdershins on charges of assault and conspiracy, but they couldn't do more until the man was released from the hospital where he was being treated for his minor injuries sustained during his capture. On the morrow he would be questioned in a holding cell by the Aurors, and Umbridge had no doubts that they would extract the information that they sought from the easily manipulated fool if her plan failed.

She sipped her tea and smoothed the front of her favorite pink cardigan as she waited. She was still in control. She had nothing to fear.

Her favorite Siamese kitten returned to its frame beside her desk and meowed a warning, and a moment later a nock sounded on her office door.

She sat up straighter and folded her hands serenely in her lap.

"Enter." she sang out sweetly.

A man with a stern looking face and short graying hair entered her office and nodded to her respectfully. Umbridge simpered and smiled at him sweetly; John Dawlish was a man with a proper amount of respect for the Ministry and pure-blood superiority. As one of the Aurors assigned to the Ministers personal security, she'd had the opportunity to work with him often over the years. His most endearing trait was his complacency to follow the orders of his superiors without questioning; he regarded the Minister as a more direct boss than his own department head, and Umbridge held great authority as well.

He was willing to do as she ordered if he considered the actions to be for the benefit of wizarding society. Fudge himself had expressed his concern and disdain that werewolves were gaining a presence among respectable society, and that was enough to get him to agree to help her. The minister was, of course, the supreme voice of authority in the nation. Little laws standing in the way of the greater good were inconsequential.

"I trust you were successful?" she asked, keeping her voice sweet as honey and offering him a cup of tea as he sat in the chair across her desk.

Dawlish nodded gravely as he accepted the cup and replied, "Of course. His memories have been modified appropriately, though I can't be certain if the damage done will be noticeable to a trained eye. Either way, they won't be able to extract the truth without breaking Widdershins' mind entirely."

Umbridge's smile became genuine for the first time that day, and she poured herself another cup of tea to celebrate, the kittens in their portraits around the office purring in contentment.

The next morning, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody's shouts of rage could be heard three floors above and below the level of the department of magical law enforcement.

Delores Jane Umbridge smiled in triumph; she might have failed in ridding the world of an up-start beast, but she was not going to be caught so easily as some imagined.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N. Just a short little chapter to introduce our favorite bookworm and see what Arya is up to! **

**Your reviews are appreciated! Enjoy. **

* * *

Chapter 34

Interludes

* * *

October 29

Hermione Jean Granger

When Hermione walked down the hallways at school, the crowds parted before her as if the hull of a ship was splitting a path through the waves in front of her, the crowds crashing together behind her again as she walked.

She could never manage to ignore the looks she received from her classmates, though she tried to occupy her mind with her text books. Don't think about what Chelsea Gibbons is whispering behind your back, just think of your maths work. Don't pay attention to Mark Ruben's rude comments after he thinks you're out of ear shot, just go over that history chapter again in your head. Don't get angry, don't get upset, don't cause another freak incident, and don't give them any reason to hate you anymore than they already do.

She knew why they hated her, and it wasn't just because she was smarter than them, with eternally frizzy hair and overly large front teeth, though those traits didn't help her case either. They hated her because she was a freak.

The teachers never believed their tales, and eventually they had stopped trying to get her in trouble for the incidents that continued to happen, no matter how hard she tried to keep them in. When she was upset or angry, unnatural things tended to happen.

Her first incident had correlated with the first time her classmates had bullied her; Samantha Ridge had pushed her down and demanded to know why she was such a know it all, and then some invisible force had pushed the other girl over, though Hermione hadn't even gotten to her feet again. Samantha had pushed her again when they had both made it to their feet, and the same thing had happened again. Samantha had run to the teacher, crying and yelling that Hermione was hurting her with magic. The teacher had reprimanded her for lying, and made her sit in the corner for a full ten minutes.

The teacher may not have believed her, but Hermione knew the other girl was right; she had done something, something she couldn't explain, even to herself.

That had been the first in a long line of instances, and though her classmates learned that telling a teacher was useless, and that trying to push Hermione around resulted in bad things happening to them, they made her suffer in less blatant ways. It was as if her strange power made them hate her even more, but they feared her too much to act on it directly. All she had to deal with now was isolation, mixed here and there with snide remarks and rude notes shoved in her locker. She sometimes wondered if most of her classmates had convinced themselves that they had imagined her strange outbursts, but either way they avoided her like the plague.

She was getting better at controlling her emotions, and thus controlling her outbursts. She poured her focus into her studies, and attempted to block out everything else. Her last accident had been at the end of her last term, when her classmates were riled up enough by the approaching summer that they had forgotten their fear of her enough to mock her to her face.

She supposed that she should just be grateful that adults never seemed to believe the wild rumors about her. Even on the rare occasion a teacher had witnessed something strange around her, they always seemed to write it off as something they had imagined. Even her father, after seeing all her books go flying across her room as she cried and yelled about how much she never wanted to go back to school, and could she _please_ have a private tutor, had chalked the whole thing over by reasoning that the window frame must be letting in a draft. It had been a calm summer day at the time, and Hermione knew it had been her.

She controlled her emotions at home now as well, made easier because her parents were kind people who loved their daughter, instead of cruel children who saw only a geeky freak with bushy hair.

She made it to the school exit and heaved a sigh of relief; she had made it through another day without causing anything strange to happen. If she could just make it another few months, she'd be off to secondary school where no one knew her, - if her control was good enough by then to stop the outbursts entirely, she'd have a fresh start. It felt like a slender ray of hope, but it was all she had to grasp onto.

She sometimes felt as if she would be buried alive beneath the weight of her secret.

* * *

Many miles away from where Hermione Granger was heading home from school in the back of her mother's car, Arya Potter was up a tree, both literally and figuratively.

She had flown from the back garden out over the fields around the cottage, enjoying the brisk feeling of the October air against her skin, her book bag charmed feather light and slung over her shoulders. She had eventually alighted in the branches of an old oak tree along their normal running path, and was currently lounging along a particularly large branch pursuing the Latin to English dictionary that Dumbledore had given her years ago. She'd be going to Hogwarts in less than a year, and she wanted to be able to understand the language that most spells in Britain were rooted in.

It was slow going, even for her, and she had been letting her thoughts drift away from her studies when Remus and Tonks had come into view below, strolling along the path and holding hands.

Tonks had been busy the last few weeks, after she had arrived at the cottage in a foul temper to relate the news that Remus's and Gordons attacker had been subjected to memory altering charms before they'd been able to interrogate the man. Apparently the situation was made worse because both Tonks and Moody agreed that only another Auror would have been allowed access to the St. Mungos ward where he was being kept. If Tonks had been in a temper, Moody had apparently been in a rage. He had kept them both for extended hours of work, attempting to find their betrayer with no success.

Arya was about to call out a greeting to them when they stopped under her tree anyway, and Arya stifled her hello out of pure curiosity to see what they were up to. She sometimes thought that her inability to keep her nose out of other people's business was her main failing, but was it her fault that they stopped under her favorite reading tree?

Tonks plopped down on the grass and leaned back against the tree, and gestured for Remus to join her, which he did, though he seemed as confused as Arya was by their sudden stop.

"So, I've been so busy the last few weeks that this has kept getting pushed back, but I've been meaning to show you something for ages now."

Tonks dug through her jacket pocket and pulled out a small folder, which she used her wand to restore to normal size before handing it over to Remus, who took it with a confused expression.

"I hope you're not angry at me for reaching out, but after our conversation a few weeks ago I had to know for sure. These are the replies I've been getting since I sent letters out asking about the situation; you've been wrong, Remus. The myth that Lycanthropy spreads to children genetically is perpetrated by the same people who think werewolves retain the mind of the beast every day of the month, not just the full moon. It's all just crap, Remus."

Remus was silent, staring down at the papers cradled reverently in his hands, flipping through them slowly. Tonks had trailed off, watching him in tense silence as he read. Arya peered down at them both, feeling like she was intruding on a very private moment, which she supposed she actually was.

After the silence had dragged on for an uncomfortably long time, and Remus had read through almost all the papers in his hand, Tonks spoke again, her voice quiet enough that Arya had to strain to hear.

"I included these last ones even though they aren't relevant to us, - it seemed like something you'd want to know anyway. Though lycanthropy isn't genetic, it seems as if female werewolves can't carry to term; a few months into the pregnancy they miscarry during their full moon transformations. If our situations were reversed we'd never be able to have that future, but as things are now…"

She stopped talking when he dropped the papers and wrapped both arms around her, causing them to tip over onto the forest floor. Tonks shrieked in laughter, and Arya looked determinedly up through the tree branches, pretending that she wasn't there and unable to stop a smile from spreading over her face.

If Remus and Tonks were _already_ discussing children, perhaps Sirius's dream of rainbow headed werewolf babies wasn't as farfetched as she'd assumed.

**A/N. I don't think the Ministry would be able to send out the memory reversal squad for every bit of accidental magic, especially considering people are usually pretty good at convincing themselves they didn't see anything. By the time those kids grow up, they'll have convinced themselves that they imagined everything.**


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N. I'm liking writing Hermione's character, it's fun. **

**Just to let everyone know, the I'm thinking that chapter 37 will be Sept. 1st, and we all know what that means! It's almost time, finally. **

**Thanks for reading, and you're reviews are always appreciated. **

Chapter 35

April 17th

* * *

Arya felt the arrival of spring toward the middle of April, as she was running in the early morning light around the still dormant orchard at the Burrow, Ginny close on her heels. It was still cold, but the chilly breeze was starting to smell of thawed dirt, and the ground under her feet had a little more give to it than it had for months. It was cloudy and there was a light drizzle falling, the cold splatters of water stinging her eyes as she ran, but feeling good against her heated face.

Ginny sped up to run besides her, "You going to keep running when you start Hogwarts?" She asked, pausing between every word to breath.

"Of course!" Arya answered, "Tonks says a lap around the grounds every morning is what she did her seventh year to prepare for Auror training, so that's what I'll do too. It'll be weird to go alone though, I bet Ron won't change his mind between now and then…"

Ginny snorted. "Yeah, good luck getting him out of bed a minute earlier than he has to be to make it to breakfast. I wish I was older!" She exclaimed for the hundredth time that week.

Ginny thought it was blatantly unfair that Ron got to go to Hogwarts before her, but her mother stomped on all her pleas to ask for early admittance. It was a sore spot for the younger girl, but Arya had promised to write her as many letters as possible, and to come home on all the breaks to visit. Arya had a feeling that Ginny would hold her to that promise like it was an unbreakable vow, but she had meant it whole heartedly. She was beyond excited to start Hogwarts, and she'd still have Ron and Neville, but she was going to miss her best friend.

"When you start I'll lend you my first year notes! I doubt you'd want Ron's, and I'm not even sure if the twins _take_ notes, so it's not all bad."

Ginny grinned through the muddy drizzle, "I'm not sure you'll take notes either! Don't you have all you're textbooks memorized by now?"

Arya grinned sheepishly as they rounded the pond and slowed to a walk for their cool down lap before heading inside. By the time they made it inside, showered off the sweat and mud, and headed downstairs for breakfast the rest of the Weasleys were eating already. Percy, Fred, and George were home for Spring break, and the twins were busy regaling Ron with one of their more outrageous pranks, ignoring their mother's disapproving look.

From everything Arya had heard from Remus, Sirius, Tonks, and the twins, it seemed as if Hogwarts was riddled with secret tunnels, trap doors, false staircases, and hidden rooms. She was itching to take her invisibility cloak and explore; the cloak gave her an advantage that most students would never have when it came to sneaking around after hours.

Fred and George seemed to do alright though, as even Molly admitted that they almost never got caught. Either Hogwarts security was rather shoddy, or the two of them had a trick or two up their sleeves.

Sirius arrived on the motorcycle as Arya was scrapping the last bite of eggs onto her toast, and Molly pressed him into accepting a plate of eggs and bacon. Arya suspected that it would be his second breakfast of the day, but he wasn't complaining as he took a seat next to Molly and Arthur and dug in. Fred and George had gone oddly quite, as they were prone to do around either Remus or Sirius; they'd been acting oddly around the two men since Christmas break, and Arya was deathly curious as to why. The twins didn't seem to need to speak in order to communicate, and watching their silent conversations whenever Sirius appeared was agonizing from an outsider perspective.

However annoying being out of the loop was, she couldn't help being impressed that they could understand each other with only slight expression changes as cues. From the little she could decipher, they appeared to be trying to decide something.

She gave up trying to figure them out, and ran upstairs to grab her over-night bag from Ginny's room. Sirius charmed her jacket and helmet to keep her warm and dry on the trip home, and Arya waved goodbye to Ron and Ginny, remembering at the last moment to thank Molly and Arthur for having her over.

She and Sirius were halfway to the bike when the door opened behind them, and they turned to see Fred and George running to catch up with them. Sirius paused curiously, but when the twins got to them, they stood looking up at him, apparently tongue tied.

"Um… Can I help you?" a mystified Sirius asked. He'd always gotten on well with the two notorious trouble makers, since they shared a liking for mayhem, but he'd barely gotten a word out of either of them for months.

One of them elbowed the other, who started in surprise, and then dug something out of his pocket and offered it to Sirius, who reached out to accept it looking very confused. His expression changed from mystified to elated and incredulous when he got a good look at the object, and Arya craned around him eagerly to get a look at what had caused such emotion; an old, battered piece of folded parchment.

What?

"Wha-! Where did you two _find_ this?!" Sirius asked, holding the battered old parchment like it was the most precious object in the world.

"Nicked it last year, from the caretakers office." One of them managed to reply.

"We'd keep it, except… Heard Mr. Lupin call you Padfoot when you were over for Christmas. You called him Moony… We thought, since Arya's starting Hogwarts soon and all, maybe we should give it back."

"We assumed Prongs was-?" The other asked, leaving the question unfinished.

Sirius nodded, and the twins shot Arya a look that most people reserved for discovering that she was the Girl Who Lived. Arya now recognized the looks they were giving Sirius as being star struck, and she looked at the blank parchment with dawning realization.

Both Sirius and Remus had long been lamenting not being able to give her what Sirius had duped the crowning achievement of their Hogwarts careers, - the Marauder Map. Almost all of their stories from fifth year up had included the map they had created that showed the entire school, and everyone in it.

If Fred and George had been using it since their first year, it was no wonder they had started acting oddly around the older men after finding out their heroes were frequent dinner guests at their house.

"We didn't really want to give it up, but we memorized all the rooms and passageways anyway, so…"

Sirius suddenly let out a whoop of joy and managed to scoop both of the twelve year old boys into a bear hug, crushing them together and spinning them around before setting them back down in the muddy lane.

"Good lads!"

Fred and George grinned identical grins, and left Arya and Sirius to bask in the presence of the map.

Sirius looked like he might cry, but was smiling mischievously as well. He walked around her, opened her backpack, and carefully tucked the parchment between the pages of her Latin book.

"Oh kid, you're going to get into _so_ much trouble with this…"

* * *

Hermione had narrowly avoided another incident on the day before Easter break began; a new student had transferred in to her grade, and while he had quickly picked up on the fact that Hermione was almost universally disdained, no one had told him why. Her classmates were getting to the age where telling someone that they were afraid of her because she had _magic_ was embarrassing.

The new boy had cornered her in the playground after lunch, and had apparently been trying to impress the boys and girls that had gathered around behind him, to apprehensive to participate in the destruction of her book bag and its contents.

Hermione had truly tried to keep her emotions in check, and her mind focused elsewhere, but it was hard to go over fourth period English notes in your head when the notes themselves were being dumped in the mud.

Hermione had felt something building inside her, and had known that she was losing control again. So she had done the only thing should could think of, - she'd run away and hid among the trees bordering the playground.

Not happy with just her books to destroy, her new tormentor had come after her, quickly approaching the clump of bushes behind which she had hid.

Desperate, Hermione had turned quickly on the spot to run away again, wishing with all her heart that she was back in the classroom, with the teacher there to prevent this kind of thing from happening. And then… she had been.

There had been an uncomfortable squeezing sensation, and then she had found herself standing behind her desk, book bag neatly placed in front of her. When the teacher arrived to find her seated and reading, she had assumed she'd just made it in quicker than the other students, and besides the mystified looks of the new boy, who hadn't understood how he had lost her, there hadn't been any fuss.

Now she was in her room, sitting on her bed in her pajamas, trying to repeat what she had done. Every incident previous to that last one had just gotten her in trouble; pushing a bully away from her without touching her, making her books fly out of grabbing hands, and causing gusts of wind to blow things around.

But magically moving instantly from one place to another? That could get her out of so much trouble! If the bullies couldn't get to her, she'd never lose control and cause a scene.

This week was the first time she'd ever tried to do magic intentionally, and she was frustrated to find that she was failing miserably. No matter how hard she wished to be on the other side of her room, she remained firmly seated on the bed.

As her frustration grew, she felt the familiar build up, and with a sudden burst of inspiration, directed it at her discarded book bag; it flung itself violently against her door, and she yelped in surprise, springing up from her bed.

_That was a dumb idea_, she thought as she heard her parent's footsteps rushing to her door, her heart beating madly in her chest.

By the time her mother's worried face appeared in her door crack, Hermione had schooled her expression into calmness, and made up the excuse that she had been fetching her books to do a little nighttime reading, and had dropped it on her foot on accident.

Her mother admonished her lightly, and told her to get some sleep instead, since school was starting again in the morning.

Hermione masked a shudder with a yawn, and crawled reluctantly back into bed. She didn't try to do magic again that night, but she didn't sleep much either.

For the first time, she had done magic with at least partial intention. Perhaps ignoring her powers wasn't the way to proceed; perhaps she could master them instead.

_Or perhaps, _she thought with a sigh, turning over in bed,_ I'm just insane._


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N. So close to Hogwarts! It is very interesting to write events in such a way as to keep them interesting and also move the plot along without just repeating J.K's amazing work. I hope I've made a good start of it. **

**As always, thank you for your feedback and your time, I hope you enjoy this one.**

* * *

Chapter 36

June 30th

The only people Hermione would miss from her school were her teachers, and many of them were genuinely sorry to see their best pupil depart as well. Overall, however, Hermione's main feeling upon departing the building for the last time was overwhelming relief. She had enjoyed the end of term exams, and now she could spend a restful two months in peace before heading to a fresh start, - a slightly posh secondary school a good drive up the country, where no one would know about her, or the strange things that happened around her.

She hadn't had another outburst at school, nor had she managed to transport herself again, though not for lack of trying. She had begun to carry a small notebook with her, and had filled it with notes about her magical efforts; she had depressingly little to write down, but organizing her thoughts comforted her. Tidy notes made a strange power more familiar.

She had managed to move things around in her room on a few occasions, but never with any precision, and most of her attempts ended with a headache and no magic whatsoever. Hermione was determined however, and now that school was out for the summer she'd have time to dedicate to her new studies.

Her mother bought her a rare treat on the way home from her last day of primary school, (a sugar free frozen yogurt), and Hermione was in a very good mood. No more bullies, no more nasty notes, and all the books she could read; the sun was even making a rare appearance to shine down on the perfect summer day. She was going to start the new history book her dad had bought her as an end of term present and spend the rest of the afternoon reading on the sunny patio.

She had grabbed her book and a glass of (sugar free) lemonade, and was heading toward the back door when the doorbell rang. Hermione hung back curiously in the hallway as her mother answered the door, revealing the sight of tall, stern looking middle aged woman, dressed smartly in black slacks and a professional looking green blazer, her graying hair drawn up in a tight bun.

"Mrs. Jean Granger?"

The woman asked, and her mother nodded, asking how she could help her.

"My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I'm here as a representative of a very particular school called Hogwarts, which we believe would be of interest to your daughter. It is a very prestigious school, we admit very few new students per year, but your daughter's unique skills have drawn our attention."

Hermione's heartrate increased and she crept toward the door further, intensely interested. She knew that she'd always tested remarkably high, but she'd applied and been accepted at all the schools that she and her parents had deemed acceptable in the area. Her new school was for gifted students, and had a very good reputation.

Hermione expected her mother to turn the other woman away, but Mrs. Granger liked to explore all avenues of possibility, and she was immensely proud of Hermione's academic achievements. She invited the woman inside, and when they didn't send her away, Hermione trailed them into the sitting room curiously.

"I've never heard of Hogwarts, is it far from here?" She paused after asking, and gestured Hermione to take a seat next to her on the couch.

Hermione sat, and McGonagall offered her a slight smile, which Hermione returned shyly.

"It is located in Scotland, almost a full day of travel from here by train, which is how most of our students arrive. I should add that Hogwarts is, of course, a boarding school."

"Oh! That is quiet a distance, we hadn't wanted to her to be so far away, and out of the country too. How is it you came to be interested in her?"

McGonagall's tone made her seem almost reluctant as she answered.

"Ah, well, here I must ask you to suspend your disbelief for a few moments while I explain." She shifted on her seat and looked seriously at Hermione. "The truth is that Hogwarts is not at all like any of the other schools you'll have applied to, because Miss Granger is not like any of her classmates."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. She'd always been different, but did this woman mean her academic level or her freak abilities? She glanced nervously at her mom; after all she had done to hide her outbursts, it seemed impossible that a stranger would be the one to give her away.

She calmed herself; it was probably her test scores, nothing more.

"By this I mean her rather special abilities."

"You mean her test scores?" Her mother asked, trailing Hermione's own thoughts.

"No, though those are remarkably high. I'm referring to her… Well, her magic, Mrs. Granger."

Hermione practically jumped in her seat, and threw her mom an apprehensive glance. She expected to see her looking angry at being pranked, or perhaps laughing at the joke, - but her mother wasn't angry, and she didn't look like she considered it a joke, either.

She was silent for a long moment, smoothing the thighs of her slacks with her hands repeatedly. She glanced at Hermione, and bit her lip in hesitation.

"Mom?" Hermione asked in a small voice. "You know?"

Her mom took a deep breath, as if stealing herself, and then looked back at McGonagall.

"There were… incidents when she was very little. My husband always thought that I had imagined them; said I was tired and perhaps suffering from postpartum, but… I knew I hadn't made them up. The year I took off from work after Hermione was born, there were a whole number of things that just weren't normal. When she was a toddler stuffed animals changed colors, food she hated vanished off the plate without a trace, I swear she was levitating her bouncy balls once when I entered the room once… But there hasn't been anything for _years_ now! I thought perhaps I really had been crazy for a while, I haven't wanted to think about it."

McGonagall looked sympathetic, in her stern type of way. "It is always hard for the non-magic families of young witches and wizards. I have often felt that they should be informed prior to student age, but as the law now stands… Miss Granger, though your mother hasn't witnessed any magical outbursts, I daresay that you have had some rather strange experiences over the years?"

Hermione nodded, still gawking at her mother in awe. She'd known all along?

"I, - yes. I've made things move without touching them, usually when I was upset or angry. I was trying to run away from a boy in my class months ago, and ended up inside my classroom, even though I'd been outside a second before… Are you saying Hogwarts is a school for children like me?"

McGonagall looked impressed when Hermione mentioned her reappearing, and her mother looked flabbergasted.

"Hogwarts is the finest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry that there is, and every student learns the main subjects of magic from the age eleven through seventeen. I have your letter of admittance here."

She handed a heavy parchment envelope to Hermione, who opened it with trembling fingers. _Dear Miss Hermione J. Granger, We are pleased to inform you… _She read the entire thing in seconds, eyes lingering on the list of supplies required of first year students. Spell books, cauldrons, a magic wand… An entire world existed that Hermione had barely even scratched the surface of, there must be so much more to magic than she had ever dreamed; a whole society of magic people to which she could belong. Hermione had never belonged anywhere, and as she stared down at her letter, she knew she wanted to go to Hogwarts more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.

"Oh mum, please say I can go." She looked up pleadingly, and her mother managed a small smile through her obvious confusion and distress.

"I don't suppose we've much of a choice, dear. If it's been happening all these years, uncontrolled, than I don't suppose you can just stop." She suddenly looked very business-like, and turned back to McGonagall to ask "You said Hogwarts is the best there is? I won't send her to a second rate school, magic or not."

"I assure you it is the finest the wizarding world has to offer. Our current headmaster is none other than Albus Dumbledore, the best wizard of the age. The school itself was founded in 990 A.D, and has retained its reputation for its entire history. If you accept Hermione's enrolment, you will be able to purchase books about wizarding history when I escort you to Diagon Alley to buy supplies this evening (it's a wizarding shopping street in the heart of London)."

Hermione was bouncing eagerly in her seat, and her mother was nodding in acceptance when her father entered the sitting room, having arrived home from work unheard. He pulled up short at the sight of a stranger in the house, and then cheerily asked what he had missed.

Hermione groaned and McGonagall sighed, but Mrs. Granger only laughed, a slight edge of hysteria in her voice, and the whole conversation began again.

* * *

July 31st

Arya was awake before the sun had risen the morning of her eleventh birthday, watching a light rain falling outside the glass doors of the cottage, nursing a cup of sweetened tea and keeping her eyes glued to the sky. Sometime in the course of the morning an owl was going to come swooping down from the sky, carrying her long awaited Hogwarts letter, and Arya was going to be there to open it immediately.

She was still there when Sirius and Remus emerged from their rooms over an hour later, only looking away when Sirius swept her up in a hug and twirled her in a circle.

"Happy Birthday squirt!" He tousled her hair when her set her down, and she shoved him lightly in return, before turning back to her owl vigil. She barely tasted the delicious breakfast Remus placed in front of her, and she kept missing her mouth with her fork because her attention was fixed on the gray sky outside.

Remus and Sirius could still remember how excited they had been to get their letters (Remus especially, because he hadn't been sure that he _would_ get one), so they left her to it, chatting with each other instead. Their conversation was rudely interrupted by an excited shrieking from Arya, sending the cat running across the room and causing both the men to jump in their seats. Remus mopped spilled tea out of his shirt with a napkin, and Sirius stood to open the sliding door for the handsome tawny owl that was flying toward them, clutching a large envelope in its talons.

Arya calmed down enough to apologies to Remus for making him spill his tea, and she managed to untie her letter from the owl's leg with only mild shaking. _Arya Lily Potter-Black_ was written in deep green ink, but the rest of the address was conspicuously missing; if the secret keeper wrote it down then anyone reading it would be included in the enchantment. Apparently the owl had found her all the same.

Arya stared at her name for a moment, - she hadn't realized it would be hyphenated, but she supposed it made sense.

Her heart raced with excitement as she read through the letter; today was the day she'd get a wand of her very own, and it was just a month until she was off to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

They were meeting the Weasleys, Tonks, Neville and Hagrid in Diagon Alley in a few hours. The Weasleys needed to do their Hogwarts shopping for the twins and Ron, as did Neville, so they had planned a day of it over her birthday. They'd do all their shopping, and then Sirius was treating everyone to a birthday lunch at the Leaky Cauldron.

Sirius had to remind her that showering and getting dressed were necessary before they could leave, and she reluctantly stopped re-reading her letter to get ready for the day. She bounded out of her room half an hour later, dressed and ready to go, but with her wild red hair dripping wet and springing in every direction. Sirius rained her in again, making her sit still while he used a combination of spells and deft finger work to get her hair into a braid down her back. She had hair potions that helped keep it manageable, but Sirius still wondered how she was going to fair while at Hogwarts, especially since she'd never let him trim it more than a few inches.

Remus went ahead of them thru the floo, and Arya and Sirius followed close on his heels. Hagrid and Tonks were already there, sitting at the bar together over a pint despite the fact that it was barely ten in the morning.

Arya had grown accustomed to the kind of attention that she attracted in purely magical settings, but she still didn't like it. Whispers and stares were common, and she'd had her hand shaken on public outings too many times to count. The hand shaking made Sirius and Tonks nervous wrecks, but there was really no way to stop people from approaching her without causing a scene. Most of the regulars in the Leaky Cauldron had greeted her before, and she nodded and waved politely to the familiar faces as they waited for Tonks and Hagrid to finish their drinks.

Dedalus Diggle, whom she had met the first time on the very day of departing from the Dursley's, never missed a chance to wring her hand, and she sighed as she saw him approaching from the corner of her eye. He excitedly shook her whole arm, and seemed like the happiest man in the world when she greeted him by name and asked how he'd been since the last time she'd seen him. Two old women at the far table, drinking sherry and smoking pipes waved at her, and she grinned back; she'd met them a few times before and knew they were quite the characters.

In fact, the only face she didn't at least know to nod to was a man younger than Sirius who nervously approached after Diggle had departed after shaking her hand for a fifth time. Sirius turned away from the others and greeted the younger man, introducing him to Arya as Professor Quirrell, whom Sirius knew from his position as Hogwarts governor, and Hagrid waved to as well. He was pale and very nervous; Arya noticed that his left eye was actually twitching. Some people were nervous around her, but from the way that Sirius was treating him (like he expected the man to faint at any moment) Arya thought that perhaps he was always like that.

She smiled in what she hoped was a comforting way and shook his hand, which was pale, sweaty, and trembling, just like the rest of him. He stuttered when he spoke to her, but ventured a joke about her not needing to learn Defense against the Dark Arts, since she probably didn't need it. That was more confusing than it was funny, but she laughed politely as Hagrid explained that he was a new hire at Hogwarts.

Hagrid cut a swath through the crowd as they headed for the exit, leaving the pale young professor behind them; he hadn't been what she'd expected from a Hogwarts teacher, but she'd only known Dumbledore and Hagrid as examples. The staff was sure to be a varied mix of people.

They met the Weasley's and Longbottom's in front of the bank, where they had already withdrawn the money they'd need for the shopping. Arya greeted her friends happily, Ron and Neville grinning excitedly back, and Ginny hugging her warmly.

Hagrid exchanged a significant look with Sirius and then spoke. "Got to go pick up a package for Dumbledore; should jus' be a moment, official Hogwarts business, you know."

Hagrid puffed out his enormous chest in pride, but Sirius looked slightly exasperated.

"Oooh! Can I come with? I've never been down on the actual carts before!" Arya asked.

"Hey!" Sirius exclaimed. "I've been doing you a favor keeping you off those carts, they're awful."

Hagrid laughed and said he didn't mind if she tagged along, and Arya ran off after him before Sirius could object, because he looked like he might.

By the time they surfaced from the bowels of the giant bank, she almost wished she'd let him keep her back; the carts were rickety and old, the tunnels below the bank vast and deep. The ride had been exhilarating but also terrifying, and she was a bit confused as to why Dumbledore wanted a tiny package from one of the oldest, lowest vaults, number 713. Hagrid was being very mysterious, and it was clear that Sirius was in on it as well. Perhaps she'd just straight up ask Dumbledore the next time she met him.

Madame Malkin's Robes for all Occasions was their first stop, though Hagrid, green from the wild cart ride went back to the Leaky Cauldron for his second pint of the day. Neville turned out to already have his uniform, and the Weasley's opted for the second hand robe shop next door, so Arya ended up entering the shop with just Sirius.

Madame Malkin herself scooped her up, correctly guessing the reason for her visit and leading her off to take her measurements. When Arya saw the boy being fitted next to her, she automatically looked around the shop to make sure his father wasn't around, because Draco Malfoy's father gave her the heebie-jeebies. She had seen the boy around some of the fancier parties that Sirius had let her tag along for, though never at any of Slughorn's gatherings. They usually never had a chance to so much as nod to each other before Sirius swept her away from them.

"Oh, hello again." Was his lackluster greeting, as if they'd talked only the week before, instead of several years ago. "Decided what house you want to be in yet?"

Arya shrugged. "Not really. I know my dad would like me to be in Gryffindor, and Slughorn keeps trying to talk me into Slytherin. I'm honestly not fussed. You still determined to be in Slytherin?"

Draco smirked, but sounded at least slightly serious when he answered. "I think I'd be disowned if I landed anywhere else. Going to try for your house team this year? My father says it's a crime first years aren't allowed their own brooms, think I might smuggle mine in somehow…"

He had an annoying habit of asking a question and then continuing to talk. "It is annoying that we can't have our own brooms, but I imagine that first years from muggle families need the year of flying lessons to catch up. By second year the playing fields been equalized, so that's probably when I'll try out."

He sneered at the mention of muggleborns, and Arya was very glad when her measurements were done and she could hop down and head for the front of the shop again. Hagrid had appeared in the shop window, grinning and holding two very large ice creams. Draco trailed behind her to the front of the shop to pay for his items also, and looked like he was going to say something disparaging about Hagrid, so Arya cut him off by saying a hurried goodbye before he could get started. His air of spoiled superiority had only increased since their last meeting, and Arya was eager to shake him off. Being around him brought back unpleasant memories of her cousin, though they looked nothing alike.

Sirius paid for her robes, eyeing the blond haired boy warily, and Arya knew he was probably wondering where his parents were, just as she had.

They joined up with the rest of the group, Arya and Hagrid gorging themselves on ice cream, and the next hour or so passed in a flurry of shopping. Arya already had a cauldron and all her books, but there was plenty more supplies to get. The item she was most anxious to buy they saved for their last stop; Ollivander's wand shop. Ron had grown more and more subdued as they neared the shop, but as they were standing in front of the door, too large a crowd to go in, Molly steered him forward with Neville and Arya.

"What did you think we were saving that reward money for? Go on, get fitted for your own wand!"

Ron looked like Christmas had come early, as he'd been practicing with an old family wand since his birthday in the spring, and threw adolescent dignity out to window in order to hug his mum in public before rushing into the shop with Neville and Arya.

The very air of the shop felt old and full of magic, making the hairs on Arya's arms rise. Mr. Ollivander was a very old man, with large pale eyes that seemed to remember everything he'd ever seen. Arya thought she felt the light brush of an outside mind against her own, but it was gone as soon as it had come, lightly trailing over her impeccable shield and then vanishing without any attempt at breaking through.

Ron was fitted first, and ended up with a long willow wood wand, containing the hair of a unicorn. Arya tried not to bounce in excitement as Neville stepped forward and was fitted; his took almost fifteen minutes to select, which seemed to make Ollivander happy for some reason. A cherry wood wand with, again, unicorn hair was finally selected, and Arya practically ran forward to be fitted.

If Neville had taken a long time, Arya took an age. She felt as if every wand in the shop had rejected her by the time Ollivander seemed to have a stroke of inspiration. As with Neville, he had seemed to grow happier and happier the more wands that got discarded. He wandered amongst the rows of wands for what felt like the thousandth time, muttering happily under his breath to himself.

He returned and handed her a handsome holly and phoenix feather wand, a few inches shorter than Neville's or Ron's. The instant her hand closed around it, she knew the search was over; a feeling of overwhelming acceptance and warmth shot up her arm, and golden sparks shot out of the wand point.

Ron and Neville gave great whoops of joy (they were tired of waiting), and Ollivander began to mutter the word _curious_ over and over. Arya was tempted to not ask him what he meant just to spite him, but her own curiosity got the better of her.

Learning that her wand shared a core with the wand Voldemort had used to kill her parents, not to mention countless other people, put a bit of a damper on her excitement. She looked down at the wand she hadn't let Ollivander tuck away into a box, and felt a bit conflicted. This wand was hers in a way that neither of her parents wands had ever felt like; she loved it. Its connection to Voldemort's wand felt like a dirty secret, and she was glad that Neville and Ron had been too busy talking to each other to overhear.

Sirius, Molly, and Augusta entered the shop and paid for the three wands, and everyone piled out into the street again.

Hagrid had disappeared, and when Arya asked, Sirius assured her that he'd meet up with them at the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. He arrived just as they were sitting down in a private parlor, beaming and carrying a large cage containing a beautiful snowy owl.

"Happy Birthday, Arya!"

Arya gasped in amazement, and glanced at Sirius to make sure she could really have it; he was grinning in a way that told her he'd been in on it. She stammered her thanks to Hagrid, taking the cage into her arms and staring at the beautiful bird inside. It was looking at her with keenly intelligent yellow eyes, and Arya was smitten.

"I can't take both her and Mr. Kitty to Hogwarts, though…" She murmured to Sirius.

"Mr. Kitty's fat and happy at the cottage, I was thinking he might not like being at the school, full of students and other cats. Besides, I need someone to keep me company while you're gone!"

Arya grinned and nodded her agreement. The cat mostly enjoyed napping, usually on top of Sirius, and pulling him away from the cottage might not be the good for him.

"Does she have a name, Hagrid?" He shook his head, and Arya studied the owl, deep in thought. "How about Ceridwen?" She asked the owl softly, and the owl hooted a low melodic note in response. Arya smiled, - Ceridwen had been a welsh witch that was revered by some muggle religions as a goddess, and an enchantress in Welsh mythology, much as Merlin was a legend in muggle cultures and histories.

"My great uncle Algie got me a toad yesterday for my birthday!" Neville told her. "Didn't want to bring him along today though, he keeps running away all the time, it's hard to keep track of him."

Arya tried not to grin as she answered, Ceridwen sitting in her cage on the table next to her plate. "Well, did you get him a tank or cage or something?"

"Er, no. You think I should?"

Sometimes Arya was amazed at the things wizarding families didn't think of. So much incredible magic at their fingertips, but they didn't think to by a pet toad a tank to keep him from running away. Arya advised him to make a stop at the magical menagerie and ask the shopkeeper what supplies he'd need.

Hagrid ate quickly, consuming four times as much as any of the others, wished her a happy birthday one last time and then made for the door, explaining that Dumbledore would be waiting on him to deliver his package.

Dessert was almost over, and Ginny and Ron were competing to see who could eat the most pudding, when a nock sounded on their parlor door, and Tom the barman reluctantly admitted Mad-eye Moody to the room. Arya had met him a few times, but most of her friends had not; his rather frightening appearance stunned them into being quiet, and the room became eerily silent as he entered.

He barely acknowledged the greetings of the adults, and stumped over to Tonks, bending stiffly down to whisper something in her ear. Arya saw her friend blanch slightly before jumping up from the table to follow Moody out the door, turning around at the last minute to briefly explain that something had come up with work before rushing off again.

Sirius and Remus exchanged worried looks, and it was a slightly subdued group that parted from the Leaky Cauldron twenty minutes later. Nothing could quite dampen Arya's good mood however, and she and Sirius spent much of the afternoon playing with a muggle basketball from their broomsticks over the fields around the cottage.

Dinner was a sumptuous collection of all of her favorites, cooked by Remus and Kreature, and though Tonks had been intending to come over, it was rather late at night before she arrived through the floo. Arya had supposedly gone to bed already, after thanking everyone for the awesome day, Ceridwen riding along on her shoulder; in reality she was practicing magic in her room with her new wand. She was surprised by the difference in her spell work; everything was so much _stronger_ than it had ever been before. A simple engorgio had made her pillow swell to ten times its normal size, and only a quick reversal had shrunk it in time to stop it from taking over her entire bed.

When she heard Tonks' clumsy floo entrance she carefully eased her door open, thankful that sound carried fairly well down the hallway so that she didn't have to creep out with her cloak on.

"Dora, what's going on?" Came Remus' voice, laden with concern for his partner.

"Gringotts has had a break in - there's no point trying to hide it, it'll be in all the papers tomorrow."

Arya heard Sirius whistle, and Remus immediately asked who had done it, as if taking it for granted that they'd been caught and arrested already.

"We don't know, that's what the big deal is about. They weren't caught, and nothing was even _stolen_. Someone broke in, successfully searched a vault, found it empty, and left without detection."

Remus swore under his breath, and it was Sirius who asked the burning question, sounding almost as if he suspected the answer.

"Which vault was searched, Dora?"

"Vault seven hundred and thirteen."

Arya felt her heartbeat increase, thumping loudly in her ears. They said nothing else useful on the subject, and Arya finally climbed into bed, mind racing far too much for sleep to come easily. Sometime between her visit to vault seven hundred and thirteen with Hagrid, and her birthday lunch, someone had broken into a bank that was supposed to be impenetrable, and escaped undetected. Hagrid had said the package was for Dumbledore…

_Dumbledore, you crazy old man, what are you up to now?_ She thought, tucking her new wand next to her parent's on her bedside table, and rolling over in bed. Before she closed her eyes to sleep, she reached up and crossed off another day on her calendar, counting off the days until the Hogwarts express would depart from Kings Cross Station.

* * *

**A/N. To clarify, Ceridwen _is_ Hedwig. I just don't think Arya would choose the same name that Harry picked out of his textbook. If you want Ceridwen's mythology, it should be the first to pop up in a google search. **


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N. Eeesh, how did I hit 4000 words without even getting to the castle? This chapter was a lot of fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it. **

**Thank you for your feedback and reviews, I always take them into consideration even if I ultimately decide to go a different way, or if I end up disagreeing. I'm not at all offended by constructive criticism, so no worries. **

* * *

Chapter 37

The Hogwarts Express

September 1st

* * *

Hermione lay awake the morning she was to leave for Hogwarts, knowing that it was too early to get up, but unable to sleep even a little bit longer.

She had been looking forward to changing schools because it would give her a fresh start among people who didn't know her, but now she was going to be thrust into a world where she knew next to nothing. There were no familiar subjects listed on her letter, and all the reading she had done in the last month had only filled her with a hundred more questions for every one she'd found an answer to. She'd read all her text books, and several other books she had bought in the spectacular book shop in Diagon Alley; books on wizarding history mostly, as well as several she had found in a section of the book store devoted muggle-born witches and wizards entering the magical world for the first time.

Professor McGonagall had approved of her choices, and Hermione had poured over those books for hours at a time. She was especially glad to have bought a set of three books that detailed vocabulary that was unique to the wizarding world, but her favorite book by far was Hogwarts, A History. She lingered over passages in her head as she lay in bed awake that morning, dreaming about castles and mountainous landscapes surrounded by forests and lakes.

By five thirty she could lay still no longer, and sat up in bed, pulling her vine wood and dragon (!) heartstring wand from her bedside cabinet, and fetching her first year charm book from her trunk. Professor McGonagall had made it clear that she was not to do magic until school started, and Hermione hated breaking rules, but she just couldn't help herself.

Gone were the days when she had worked herself into a headache attempting to produce even a flicker of magic; with her wand and spell books, it all became so simple. The right amount of focus, correct pronunciation of the spell, and the precise movement detailed on the textbook pages produced amazing results.

The wizarding histories had also clued her in to certain things about wizarding society; as a victim of almost constant bullying by her peers, she was an eleven year old who didn't contain much naivety, and as such was saddened but not surprised to read of the prejudice prevailing wizarding society. Witches and wizards born to non-magic parents were the subjects of wide-spread discrimination; there had been a war that had ended only ten years ago led by pure-blood elitists attempting to take over wizarding society in England. The leader of the movement sounded like the stuff that nightmares were made up of, and had only been struck down when he'd attempted to kill an infant; she had bought a few books that covered the war, and none of them really seemed to know how Arya Potter had survived the killing curse, or why Voldemort had died that night. One of them even suggested that he _hadn't_ died at all, and would return one day to finish the war he had started.

The story made her shudder, but she had been excited to put together the timeline and discover that Arya Potter would be in her year if she attended Hogwarts like her parents had. It was all terribly exciting, but also scary. By the end of the day she'd be in a magic castle, already sorted into her house, and ready to learn as much as possible (she'd read that the library was one of the most extensive in the magical world).

She put her book and wand away when she heard her parents stirring in the next room over, dressed in her normal clothes, and gently folded her witches robes on the top layer of her trunk so that she could reach them to change on the train. She attempted to tame her mass of bushy hair, but gave up after a few minutes; perhaps she'd learn some kind of spell that would help with that.

Breakfast passed in a blur, Hermione forcing herself to eat despite a total lack of appetite, and then it was time to go. Hermione double checked her school list, and helped her parents haul her heavy trunk and two extra book bags into the car, and then they were off to Kings Cross station. Hermione watched the house disappear behind them as they drove away, knowing that it would be months until she saw it again. She'd never been away from home for more than a few weeks, never been away from her parents for more than a day or two; she told herself that if she was hoping to get into Gryffindor house, she'd better be brave, and turned forward in her seat resolutely, ready to face the magical world.

* * *

Arya was up absurdly early on the morning of September 1st, but Sirius was up even earlier, due to the fact that he hadn't gone to sleep at all the night before. When he had been heading off to Hogwarts as a child it had been with great relief to leave his horrible home life behind, and his parents had been just as happy to see him go as he had been to leave.

Sending Arya off to school was different; she was excited to go, but he felt like sending her off was similar to tearing off a piece of himself to send away as well. He was keeping a good attitude about it, unwilling to bring her down from her excitement, but it was _hard_. The entire situation was made worse by his knowledge that Hogwarts this year might not be the safe place that it normally was; the philosopher's stone was being guarded there this year, and Dumbledore was sure that someone working for Voldemort was attempting to steal it. The break in at the bank proved his fears, but Sirius couldn't approve of keeping it in the school.

Dumbledore hadn't told him everything, he was sure. That man had layers of plans that an onion would envy, and he'd told Sirius that though he was partial to every horcrux related secret, the matter of the stone was between him and his old friend, Nicholas Flamel. Sirius detested being kept in the dark, and he hated that Arya would be so close to something that always drew the worst sort of people toward it. Dumbledore had comforted him by assuring him that Professor Snape would be tasked specifically with watching over his daughter, and Sirius had looked at him in such a way that Dumbledore hadn't needed legilamancy to know that he thought he was bonkers.

At Remus's insistence, Sirius had avoided talking about Snape with Arya, except to explain that they'd had a seven year long feud with him in their school days. Remus had added that they'd often been the instigators, and that he wasn't proud of their actions, even considering that Snape had turned out to be… 'less than a decent sort of person'. Sirius had reluctantly agreed that they had been less than fair toward him at the beginning, but insisted that he'd deserved it by the end. He did agree that filling Arya with his own grudge was a bad idea; she was capable of making her own judgments. His decision not to inflict his own prejudice on her didn't change his opinion of the man himself one wit; Snape's love of the dark arts, involvement in the war, and hatred of James made him the last man on earth that he'd want looking after his daughter.

Sirius had warned Dumbledore that if Arya got caught up in whatever mad scheme he was organizing at the school this year Voldemort returning would be that least of his worries. He'd have to be satisfied with that, unless he was willing to send her abroad for school, which he certainly wasn't.

Arya emerged tousle haired and sleepy eyed at six thirty in the morning, and Sirius patted the spot beside him on the couch. She nudged the cat out of the way and sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder tiredly. Sirius put his arm around her thin shoulders as the cat climbed into his lap and purred contentedly. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching the sky lighten outside the cottage windows.

Arya eventually broke the silence. "So, do _you_ know what Dumbledore's package is that was almost stolen?"

Sirius grinned. His daughter was no simpleton.

"Course I do." He ruffled her hair and made her turn around so that he could braid it one last time before she'd have to deal with it on her own. "Keep your nose out this time, if you can at all help it. You know how Dumbledore is, - always caught up in grand plans and dangerous things."

He tied the braid off, the end all the way down to the middle of her back, and she turned toward him again, a slight pout on her face. He flicked her bottom lip, making her smile instead, and then he withdrew a palm sized paper wrapped object from his pocket and handed it to her.

"This used to belong to James," he explained as she carefully un-wrapped a handheld square of bright mirror. "It's a two way mirror, James and I used them to talk while we were in separate classes or detentions. I've put protective spells on it to keep it from breaking, knowing you as I do, and I'll keep mine on me at all times. If you ever need anything, or want to chat, just speak my name into the mirror."

Arya's eyes widened, and she carefully wrapped the paper around it again before hugging him in thanks; he wasn't the only one who was a bit apprehensive about her starting school, though her excitement usually over-shadowed her nerves.

She went back to her room to pack the mirror and dress for the day, emerging ten minutes later with her book bag over her shoulder and hauling her trunk behind her. Sirius had put an undetectable extension charm on a regular book bag and given it to her as birthday present; it was the only reason his bookworm daughter wasn't dragging ten bags of books behind her. If the feather-light charm ever wore off, she'd no doubt be unable to budge it so much as an inch, despite her hard earned muscles.

Remus emerged eventually, and Arya helped make their customarily large breakfast, even though they'd skipped their normal morning run. Even her excitement and nerves didn't dampen her appetite, and her entire plate of food vanished in minutes.

Though it would have been practical to side-along apparate to the platform, Sirius and Arya had planned a last motorcycle ride to Kings Cross. Remus would meet them there in a few hours with her trunk, book bag, and owl.

Sirius stood up and fetched their helmets while Arya did a last check of her room for missing items, kissed the protesting cat goodbye, and then shot out the door like sparks from a wand.

Sirius shook his head ruefully as he followed after her; Hogwarts wasn't going to know what hit it.

* * *

The Grangers arrived in Kings Cross at ten past ten, a full fifty minutes before the train was expected to depart from platform nine and three-quarters. Hermione's father retained his now familiar expression of bemused disbelief, seeming to retain the idea that they were all being badly pranked (despite Professor McGonagall's magical demonstration two months previously), right up until the moment they walked through a solid brick barrier and emerged onto the platform.

The platform wasn't busy yet, due to their early arrival, but there were a few families helping their kids haul trunks onto the train already, and Hermione led the way on to the train, her dad lifting her trunk into the overhead storage of an empty compartment. She stowed her overly stuffed book bag on her seat, and followed her dad off the train to say goodbye.

One of her introductory books had described how some muggle parents reject their children when their magical gifts were revealed, and Hermione was full heartedly thankful that though her parents were awed and confused by the situation, they had never given her any reason to doubt their love for her. Her dad jumped when a boy carrying a large owl in a cage walked by them, and Hermione decided to say goodbye before the platform truly became crowded; she didn't want her parents any more uncomfortable than they already were.

It was hard to say goodbye, and she didn't want to draw it out and start crying, so she hugged them both tightly, promised to write as often as she could, and scurried onto the train, leaning out the window to wave as her parents made their way back toward the barrier, her dad dabbing at his eyes. And then it was time to wait. She checked her watch; there was still forty minutes to wait, and the platform was beginning to fill up.

She fished her uniform out of her trunk and changed into her odd robes, tugging at the dark material that fell all the way to her feet. She thought it looked a bit silly, but everyone would be wearing them at school so she wouldn't stand out. She fetched her book _Muggle to Magical, a Wizarding Introduction _from her bag, and set it on her lap open to the first chapter, but it was more a nervous habit than anything, because instead of reading she found herself watching the families appearing on the platform. There was so much variety among the crowd that there was always something new to look at; owls and cats were adding their noises to the growing fray, and students from eleven to seventeen were gathering with their families to say good bye.

A girl her own age with dark hair and an up-tilted nose was parting from her parents right outside Hermione's window. Unlike most families she could see, there was no hugging or tearful goodbyes with her, the father nodded formally and the mother gripped her arm lightly, and then she was boarding the train. Hermione shook her head in confusion, wondering if that was an old wizarding family; her book said some of the old houses were still very traditional and formal. The girl slid the compartment door open a moment later, took in the sight of Hermione, read the title of the book on her lap, and then sneered in disdain and left, obviously looking for a compartment further down the train that was free from muggleborns.

_Well then, _Hermione thought, raising her eyebrows in shock. That hadn't taken long; the worst of her tormentors in her old school could've learned a thing or two from that look of disdain, the best they had managed to convey was hate.

It didn't matter if every person she met rejected her, she was going to learn magic and no one could stop her. She had just as much right to be there as any of them. She bit her lip and managed to read a paragraph before she started to re-read every line, unable to absorb the words.

She could tell herself that it didn't matter all she wanted, but she had _so_ hoped to make friends here.

It was quarter to eleven when the compartment door slid open again, and Hermione looked up to see a tall girl with flaming red hair, green eyes, and more freckles than she'd ever seen peering into the compartment.

"First year too?" She asked cheerfully, and Hermione nodded.

"Saving those seats for anyone? Everywhere else is filling up fast."

"No, they're open." Hermione answered, wondering if this girl would notice the title of her book and dismiss her as the other girl had. Instead, the girl grinned at her, slid the door all the way open and hauled a large trunk and owl in behind her; two boys followed her into the compartment with their own trunks and helped her wrestle the heavy luggage into the overhead. The tall red haired freckled boy could have been her brother, and the round faced boy smiled shyly at Hermione as they all settled in.

Hermione watched the other girl deposit her shoulder pack onto the seat across from her and throw the window open, leaning almost all the way out to wave at someone down the platform. She pulled back in, and a moment later a tall dark haired man with storm grey eyes appeared outside, trailed by a shorter red haired girl who looked close to tears.

Hermione jumped a bit in when the man found a foothold on the outside of the train and leaned half into the compartment to scoop the girl into a crushing hug, - no formal parting here, anyway.

"Agh! Dad, let-me-go!"

The girl squeaked, though she didn't seem to mind all that much, laughing as he released his hold on her and backed out of the window again. He ducked out of sight for a second, and when he stood up again the younger girl was on his shoulders, startled into laughter instead of tears.

"I'll write you all the time Ginny! It'll be just like you're there yourself, I promise!" There was another hug through the window, and then the train began to move, starting slowly and building up speed, leaving the platform with the laughing and crying girl and the grey eyed man behind. The girl closed the window and sat down across from Hermione, wiping the back of her hand across her slightly teary eyes.

"Hi!" She said after the last tear had been wiped away, sounding perfectly cheerful despite her watery eyes. "I'm Arya Potter-Black, this is Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom."

She stuck out a hand for Hermione to shake, and the two boys waved a greeting from where they were jostling for space on the seats. Only when she said her name did Hermione notice the lightning bolt scar on her forehead, standing out stark white against the thick coating of freckles. She wanted to ask who the man she'd called 'dad' was since her books said she'd went to live with an aunt and uncle, but decided that might be best saved for later. If her name was hyphenated it was likely that her books were a bit out of date.

"Oh! I'm Hermione Granger." She shook the offered hand. "You were in all the modern history books I read this summer. My parents are both dentists, so I never even heard of any of this until I got my letter two months ago."

She figured that if anyone had a problem with her muggle parents it had better come into the open now rather than later. She refused to be ashamed of them for something as foolish as being born without magic.

"Extra reading was probably a smart idea, but I wouldn't take most of those books too seriously, no one really knows what happened. It's all just speculation and guessing; rubbish thing to be famous for in my opinion, I don't even remember anything. How did your parents take the news? My aunt and uncle hated magic."

"My dad thought it was a prank for the longest time, but my mom said there'd always been strange things happening around me. I was so surprised to get my letter, I had no idea there were other people like me and schools to teach it and everything. I read all my text books, of course, I hope it's enough, but I'm sure I'm loads behind everyone who grew up with magic."

She shut her mouth with a snap. She always talked fast and loud when she was nervous, it was a habit that she couldn't seem to break. Arya seemed nice, but she was sure she'd avoid her just like the girls at her school had once she realized how geeky she was. But there was no point in hiding it; she wasn't going to change any time soon.

It was Ron, the red headed boy, who answered. "Don't worry, you won't be behind at all if you've read all your text books, that's more than I've done and my entire family is magic. Tons of kids come from muggle families and they learn just fine."

No one here seemed to mind that she had muggle parents, and Hermione felt a bit of her tension drain. Maybe she wouldn't be as far behind as she'd assumed.

"I didn't know about anything magic until three years ago either, when Sirius adopted me." Arya smiled reassuringly at her, and Hermione smile back. Maybe she'd even have a friend.

"Do you guys know what houses you want to be in? Gryffindor sounds by far the best, but Ravenclaw would be good too, I think."

"Anything but Slytherin!" Ron exclaimed, and Arya rolled her eyes at him. "Actually, I'd better be in Gryffindor or my parents might disown me; everyone in my family has been sorted there for generations."

Neville looked increasingly worried, holding a tank with a large toad on his lap. "I'll probably end up in Hufflepuff, but both my parents were in Gryffindor, and my gran…"

Arya shook her head, and said, "I keep telling you that Hufflepuf wouldn't be a bad thing! Why does everyone look down on a house whose motto is 'Loyalty, Justice, and Patience'?"

Ron muttered something about puffballs under his breath, but Arya ignored him.

"I'm not fussed about it, myself, though Gryffindor would be good. What subjects are you looking forward to the most?"

Now _that_ was a subject Hermione could talk about.

They were soon deep into a discussion about transfiguration and charms, and Neville and Ron chatted about something else together, not sharing the girls' enthusiasm for academics. Ron eventually fell silent, shooting a look between Arya and Hermione as they animatedly talked about Latin root words and the cultural differentiation's between magical practices. They'd discovered they'd read one of the same books on the subject, and Arya was describing some of the theories in other books about it that she'd lend her when they got to the castle.

The conversation paused when Ron let out a kind of pained noise, still looking between the two of them.

"What?" Arya asked.

"It's just… there's two of you now. I think one was more than enough to make the rest of us feel like complete dunderheads, and now there are two of you. That's just not fair…"

Neville nodded his head in fervent agreement, and Arya laughed at their fearful expressions. It had a slightly evil sound to it, but Hermione couldn't help but grin a bit as well. None of her classmates had ever been able to keep up with her before, but now she had no fear of Arya finding out how geeky she was and leaving, because it was becoming obvious that Arya was the same as she was in that regard.

Arya switched the subject to something more light hearted that they could all participate in, and the wild landscape sped by as the day wore on. Hermione had the misfortune of choosing a sardine flavored Every Flavored Bean from a carton that Arya bought off the sweet cart to share, but the pumpkin pasty was delicious.

The compartment door slid open as they were finishing their treats, and Hermione saw a pale, sharp faced boy with white blond hair and a sneering expression, flanked by two of the biggest eleven year olds she'd ever seen. The boys eyes passed over Neville, lingered on Ron for a moment, and studied her with obvious contempt before fixing on Arya.

"Hello again. I see you've been making friends…"

His eyes flicked to Hermione again, as if communicating special meaning. One of those people again, then.

"Yes, I have." Arya responded firmly. "You want to join us?"

"Er, no thanks. You might find that associating with a… _different_ crowd might be beneficial in the years to come. We're down at the end of the train if you want to join us." It was clear that the invitation was meant for Arya only.

"I'm not sure associating with the sons and daughters of the people who followed the man who murdered my parents would be particularly beneficial to me, per say. I know who your crowd is, Draco." Her eyes flicked to the boys on either side of him.

The boy flushed slightly. "Careful, Potter, the invitation isn't likely to be repeated often."

He swept out of the compartment, lackeys close behind, and Arya closed the door behind him.

"What a pretentious arse." Hermione heard her mutter under her breath, and she looked down at her lap, smiling. It was good to know some people didn't care a wit about pure-blood alliances.

Ron entertained them by doing a rather good impersonation of the blond haired boy, who Arya told her was named Draco Malfoy, since he hadn't bothered to introduce himself.

The encounter was quickly forgotten, and Hermione reminded everyone that they needed to change into their robes as the sky darkened outside; within half an hour the train was slowing to a stop in Hogsmeade station. Hermione took a deep breath, and followed the others out of the crowded train, into the chilly unknown night.

* * *

**A/N. With Draco's father not sure whether he wants to oppose Arya openly or not, I feel as if he would have told his son not to make an enemy of her straight off the bat. I'm trying to stay true to his character, but also make him speak with more caution. **


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N. Wow, we've finally made it! **

**I hope this is as exciting for you to read as it is for me to write, and as always, your feedback and encouragement is very much appreciated! **

**Thank your for reading, and if you take the time to review or suggest this story to a community, an extra thanks to you.**

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Chapter 38

The Sorting Ceremony

September 1st (Still)

* * *

Arya's first view of Hogwarts castle was everything she had dreamed it would be, glowing on the side of the mountain as they rounded the cliffs in their small boats. Ron, Neville and her new friend Hermione were sharing a boat with her, Hagrid leading the way toward the harbor. Arya knew from the Marauders map that the harbor opened up in a passage under the castle; one of Sirius's stories involved stealing the boats for a midnight sailing session, but that story had devolved into skinny-dipping with the giant squid, and Arya had stopped listening.

She was glad that animals and luggage were brought up separately, because the walk up the steep passage that opened up in the shadow of the castle after they had disembarked was hard enough without hauling everything up with them. Arya gave a mental thanks to Tonks for making her take up running, because everyone else was panting a lot harder than she was. She imagined the hundred and something stairways would also be quite demanding.

Hagrid gave them a look over when they were on the steps, probably taking a head count, gave her a reassuring smile, and knocked on the giant oak front doors. They opened to reveal a stern faced witch wearing emerald green robes, who Hermione whispered was Professor McGonagall, the transfiguration professor. Hagrid confirmed that when he greeted her by name, and the nervous bunch of students followed her into the entrance hall, and then into a side chamber to await sorting. Hermione was talking fast and loud about the history of Hogwarts, which seemed to annoy Ron a bit; Arya had noticed that Hermione tended to lecture when nervous. She did have an amazing memory though; Arya recognized some of what she was saying as text taken directly out of Hogwarts, A History.

Her rambling was interrupted by the Hogwarts ghosts making an appearance, and Professor McGonagall returned to fetch them shortly after. Arya felt her excitement growing as they entered the Great Hall, thousands of candles floating above the long tables of students. The enchanted ceiling was lit with stars, and Arya could see Dumbledore smiling at them from the staff table. She gave him a wave, which he delicately returned, and then she turned to the hat that had been brought out and placed on a stool in front of them. She stared at it, holding her breath in anticipation, and sure enough, a rip along the brim opened wide and the hat burst into song.

Arya cheered and clapped with the rest of the school when it finished, and McGonagall unfurled a length of parchment and began to call students forward to put on the hat and be sorted. Some students took hardly any time to be sorted, but for others it took its time; Neville and Hermione both had the hat on for more than a minute, before the hat decided on Gryffindor for both of them. Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, barely had it on for a second before it shouted 'Slytherin' to the hall.

As she waited for her turn she had a fleeting thought that perhaps she should be thinking about how her parents had been sorted years before, of how Dumbledore and a boy named Tom Riddle had gone through the same ceremony as she was taking part in now. Unfortunately, her thought process had pretty much dissolved into a constant stream of _cool cool cool cool cool _in her excitement.

Finally, Professor McGonagall called "Potter-Black, Arya" and she darted to the stool as whispers spread like a grass fire through the hall. The hat fell gently down over her eyes, and Arya waited in tense silence for her fate to be decided, hands holding on to the edges of the stool in a white knuckled grip.

The silence dragged on, and Arya had a moment of absolute panic; was there something wrong with her? Would Professor McGonagall yank the hat off her head and send her home if the hat refused to sort her? What was going on?

And then she remembered.

Oh, for Merlin's sake, she thought, and dropped her occlemency shields.

_Ah, there you are! _A voice sounded in her head. _Hmm, interesting, very interesting. What have you done here? _

Arya could feel the presence of the hat in her mind, going through her head incredibly quickly, picking and pulling at her memories and feelings; it lingered on her Liars Palace for a moment, seemingly intrigued, and then moved on.

_Good sense of loyalty and justice, but you just don't have the patience that Hufflepuf requires, no. Mind like yours, Rowena would've eaten her hat to get you, but no, not quite a good fit for Ravenclaw either. _

_ Let's see, what a thirst for success! And the cunning to get it, yes, Slytherin would do well for you, help you along the path to greatness, no doubt about that. Not lacking in bravery either, my goodness, no. Good amount of Chivalry, it's all here in your head, so which will it be?_

Slytherin would be hard, she thought to the hat, full of the families of my parent's enemies. I could manage though, if it's the best fit.

_Hmm, yes, that's very __**brave **__of you, isn't it? Better be -_ "GRYFFINDOR!"

Arya felt a bit relieved as she took off the hat and made her way to the Gryffindor table, hardly noticing that she the crowd of students was roaring its approval. Fred and George calmed down enough to clap her on the back, and Percy shook her hand pompously as she took a seat next to Hermione and across from Neville. Poor Ron was looking exceptionally green in the face, waiting for almost all the other students to be sorted before him.

He needn't have worried; the hat was on his head for only a few seconds before it shouted Gryffindor to the hall, and Ron walked shakily toward them to join his friends and brothers. Arya grinned and gave him a one armed hug around the shoulders as he sat next to her at the table.

Dumbledore didn't make them wait long after the last student was sorted to eat, and soon the golden platters where filled with more food than even Arya and Ron could eat. Arya filled her plate with everything within reach, feeling as if her stomach had become a bottomless pit sometime during the long train ride. Hermione looked slightly aghast at the amount she and Ron were stuffing their faces with, but Neville was used to them.

"The hat almost did put me in Hufflepuff, so I was kind of right to worry!" He told Arya, gesturing across the table with a chicken leg.

"Hufflepuff would've been fine!" Arya insisted after she'd swallowed her bite of steak. "_I_ almost ended up in Slytherin! Slughorn says their dormitories are underground, can you imagine?"

Arya hated closed in spaces; windowless rooms made her feel a bit panicky; she suspected that being trapped in a cupboard as a small child had left her with a residual fear of being closed in.

"The hat really considered Ravenclaw for me." Hermione said, and looked at Ron, who shrugged, his mouth still stuffed with food, to indicate that the hat hadn't deliberated with him. "This could have easily ended with all of us in four separate houses."

They were all distracted when the resident Gryffindor ghost pulled his head half off, apparently in response to something a boy who had been sorted with them had asked. Arya gagged on her bite of chicken, not accustomed to seeing the after effects of a botched beheading while she was eating.

The conversation turned to bloodlines, and Arya studied the other first years that had been sorted into the house as she ate. There were three other girls besides her and Hermione who she thought were named Lavender, Parvati, and Dorcas, and Ron and Neville would share their dorm with a boy named Dean and a sandy haired boy named Seamus. Arya regaled everyone with a few horror stories of the Dursleys when they asked about them, but made it clear that muggles in general were the same as wizards; good and bad people weren't specific to either group, she'd just had the rotten luck to end up with some of the bad ones.

The food disappeared and was replaced with desserts of every kind, and Arya turned her attention to the staff table as Seamus entertained them with how his muggle father had reacted to finding out his wife and children were magical.

Hagrid took up a large portion of the staff table, and Dumbledore was easy to spot with his long silver beard glowing as bright as the ghosts in the hall. She thought she could put some names to the others from all the stories she'd heard over the last few years. Flitwik must be the one whose head barely crested the table, and she was sure the black haired man with the hooked nose who was talking to the ever-nervous professor Quirrell was professor Snape, whom Sirius seemed to have a nasty history with.

Snape looked up as she studied the pair of them, meeting her eyes across the length of the hall, and Arya felt two things happen simultaneously. First, she felt something within her own mind _pulse_ with a sharp pain that made her gasp out loud, her scar searing with the unexpected pain. Second, she felt a presence press hard against her mental shields, questing for breaks and cracks in her defenses with a hundred probing tendrils. She slammed everything she had against the invading presence out of fear driven instinct, the pain from her scar not letting her think clearly, and the probing withdrew immediately. Professor Snape broke eye contact, turning back to his conversation with Quirrell, who was sporting an absurd looking purple turban.

Arya turned away as well, rubbing a hand across her scar, the pain fading as quickly as it had come. Had she imagined professor Snape flinching as she'd lashed out? Either she was very much mistaken, or he had attempted to use legilemency on her. Should she have let him through to her liar's palace instead of pushing him out of her mind? And had his attempt been what caused the pain in her scar? She felt very confused; the two things had happened at almost the exact same time, but the attempt to penetrate her defenses had failed, she was sure of it. The _pain_ had definitely come from inside her layers of shields.

She was diverted from her troubled thoughts when Ron nudged her to pay attention; the desserts had disappeared from the plates, and Dumbledore was rising to speak to the gathered students. The start of term notices were about what she'd expected, a warning to stay out of the forbidden forest which she fully intended to ignore, a reminder not to do magic in the corridors which she also planned to ignore, instructions on quidditch tryouts which didn't really apply to first years, and lastly a warning to avoid the third floor corridor unless one wanted to die in a painful manner.

That last one brought her up short; she knew Dumbledore well enough to know he was quite serious, but she didn't understand. Why would anything kept within a school cause a painful death to its students? Sirius's warning from that morning to keep her nose out of Dumbledore's mad plots came to mind, - he'd said that right after she'd asked about the package from Gringotts.

It seemed as if she now knew where it was, if not _what_ it was. She wondered why Dumbledore hadn't just sealed off the section of castle and kept shut about it, if he wanted it hidden and protected so bad. She looked at him shrewdly as everyone began to sing the school song; something else was going on there, she was sure. There was some deeper plan that she just wasn't privy to, which irked her a bit. What was the point of mastering occlemency if no one told her anything anyway?

Fred and George finished the school song, and then everyone was rising from their seats and beginning to exit the Great Hall. Percy, as prefect, was calling for the first years to follow him up to the dormitories, and Arya fell into line with the others, feeling a bit sleepy and full of food.

She'd studied the Marauders map so many times that she might have been able to find Gryffindor tower herself, but it was nice to mindlessly follow Percy through the many staircases and passages, admiring the moving portraits and beautiful castle architecture. Hermione was apparently too tired and out of breath from the climbing to spout anymore passages from Hogwarts, a History, and the only thing that disturbed their progress was Peeves, the resident poltergeist. Arya managed to save Neville from getting an armful of walking sticks dumped on his head, but didn't have the chance to try any of the handy spells Remus had taught her to fend off the pesky spirit.

Percy gave the password to a very large portrait of a very large woman, and Arya gaped with the other first years at the beautiful room beyond. It was large with walls that were gently rounded because it was a tower room, filled with cozy looking couches, armchairs, and fire places flickering along the walls. There was a section full of tables, desks, and chairs for studying, and an empty section to the far right that looked like it might be meant for spell practice.

Percy directed the boys through to their dorms, and Arya waved goodnight to Neville and Ron, promising to meet them in the common room before breakfast, and then followed the other girls up the spiraling staircase to their dorm room. There were five four-poster beds along the walls of the circular room, the feet of the beds pointing toward the center and the canopies draped with Gryffindor colors; a wardrobe, cabinet, and a small desk with a chair and ornate mirror attached accompanied each bed. Arya's trunk and book bag were on the bed between Lavender's and Hermione's, and Ceridwen was in her cage atop the desk beside it.

Arya opened the cage and offered her arm to Ceridwen, who somehow managed to look graceful clambering out of the cage and up Arya's arm to her shoulder. Hermione was looking so curiously over at her that she introduced them, and Ceridwen let Hermione stroke her feathers softly for a moment, and Lavender cooed over how beautiful she was, which made her preen her feathers in with haughty pleasure.

Arya sat at her desk after fetching things to write with, and scratched off a quick letter to Ginny.

_Dear Ginny, told you I'd write you soon! Made it into Gryffindor, though it was a close thing. Ron was practically green for the whole sorting, but he's in Gryffindor too. Miss you like a bowtruckle misses grubs; write you more later this week! Love, - your Arya P. _

Ceridwen was happy to have a letter to carry, and swept out of the large window by the desk with a whoosh.

She fished her pajamas out of her trunk, brushed her teeth in the bathroom that was through a door to the right of her bed, and wished Hermione goodnight. Her bushy haired friend smiled in a way that made her less stern than normal, and Arya pulled the curtains closed around her bed. Wand in hand, she performed the series of silencing charms that Tonks had taught her, effectively making her bed curtains and surrounding area sound proof. It was a technique that Aurors used while on stake-out missions, and it had taken Arya two weeks before she had gotten it right, but it was worth the effort.

She pulled the mirror that Sirius had given her out of her pocket, lit her wand tip to illuminate the area, and a said "Sirius" while holding the mirror in front of her. She thought for a moment that nothing had happened, and then the mirror flickered, and instead of her own face it showed her Sirius's beaming face, with both Remus and Tonks peering over his shoulders. Sirius saw the Gryffindor hangings behind her and let out a loud whoop in celebration. Remus and Tonks chimed in with congratulations, and Arya grinned broadly at them, before giving into a huge yawn.

She managed to get out that Ron and Neville had made it in to Gryffindor as well between yawns, told them all she missed them, and then it was time for sleep. Tonks, who had just become a full Auror the month before, warned her to take plenty of time in the morning for her run, because the path around the grounds was a bit rough; Arya nodded in sleepy agreement, and the mirror faded as her head hit the pillow. She was asleep within seconds, dreaming for some strange reason that professor Quirrell's turban was telling her to transfer to Slytherin immediately.

* * *

Many stories below, Severus Snape was not even close to being able to sleep. He was instead sitting at his office desk perusing a stack of letters that had built up over the last few years, not sure what clue he hoped to find in them.

He dreaded the beginning of term each year, and this one had been anticipated with even more trepidation than normal. It was bad enough to catch fleeting glimpses of Black when the school governors met for conferences, without having James's brat to torment him as well.

He'd steadfastly refused to think of hers as Lily's child; in his head she was always James's.

That illusion had been shattered the moment she'd entered the hall, shining red hair the exact shade her mother's had been, almond shaped green eyes brightened by excitement and nerves. Snape's experience as a Death Eater and then spy for the Order had saved him from making any outward sign of shock, but inside he'd been reeling. He'd never seen her, never asked about her, never let himself picture her as anything but a little replica of her father; even when Dumbledore had tasked him with keeping her safe while she was at Hogwarts, he'd never asked for a description.

For a moment he'd felt as if the last two decades had never happened, and he'd been back at his own sorting, watching his best and only friend be sorted into a different house than himself.

He'd watched the girl on and off throughout the feast, unable to pay full attention to what Quirrell was talking about. He had searched for differences in appearance, and found them; she was taller than Lily had been at her age, that was clear even from a distance. She had more freckles than Lily, covering almost every visible inch of skin; her movements were quicker, more erratic than Lily's had ever been, and she ate far more food with far worse manners than her mother ever had.

He had almost convinced himself that they were really not so alike after all when he had turned to study her again and met Lily's eyes across the hall. He'd delved her mind out of instinct, a mad urge to prove to himself that the young girl sitting at the Gryffindor table was a different person than the girl who had sat there twenty years before. Her mind, he told himself, must be more like Potter and Black than Lily, more insolent and idle than brave and kind.

He hadn't found out, because he'd hit a monstrously strong mental barrier, and had then been swiftly smashed away by the equivalent of a mental club. He might have been able to fend her off and break through, given time and opportunity, but he hadn't stuck around to find out, and the sharp rebuff had left him with a headache that was lingering still.

Finding an adult that had mastered occlemency was rare, and finding that amount of controlled skill in a child was almost unheard of.

In fact, the only one he knew of was the distant pupil of Dumbledore's that he'd been tutoring through letters for the last two years.

He'd wanted to find the mind of the Potter girl to be idle, unmotivated, and ill mannered; all the traits he'd detested in her father. The letters he was now convinced were written by her painted a different picture entirely; vibrant, energetic, keenly intelligent, good hearted to the point of naivety, stubborn, and yes, a bit impertinent.

Snape felt his heart constrict with the same dull pains of guilt, anger, and grief that he'd carried with him for the last decade, sharpened now to a keen edge by proximity to someone so close in both looks and character to the friend he had betrayed.

It would have been so much easier to hate her.

* * *

**A/N. I know everyone had different expectations regarding the sorting, but my vision for this story has been set from the very beginning. I've always felt that people were sorted not on their traits per-say, but on which qualities they valued the most. It explains how so varied a group of people could end up all together in a house.**

** "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."**


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N. I shouldn't attempt to function before my first cup of coffee *yawn*. Thanks for all the reviews! Since I'm greedy, you should let me know what you think of this chapter as well!**

**Yadda yadda yadda, enjoy, etc. **

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Chapter 39

First Week of Term

When Hermione woke up the next morning, eager to start her first day of classes, it was to find that Arya had already departed for the day, though all the other girls were barely stirring. She quickly stamped down on her sense of disappointment; she had no reason to expect that she'd be included in the group all the time, they'd barely known each other for a day.

You've always managed on your own before, she told herself, you'll be fine.

She grabbed her shower stuff and headed to the bathroom, and jumped as the dormitory door swung open and Arya entered the room at a jog, waving cheerily at Hermione before digging through her trunk for her own shower gear.

Hermione gaped at her in astonishment; she was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, was soaked in sweat, had the same braid in her hair as she had the night before, and sported a scrapped up palm and two bloody and bruised knees.

"What on earth happened to you?" She asked.

Arya extracted a large shower bag, containing at least four bottles of mysterious hair care products, and spoke as Hermione tailed her into the showers.

"Tonks said the trail for running was a bit rough, but she failed to mention hills that were practically cliffs and half a field of boulders! I guess when she said all terrain she really meant it! I tripped down a hill round the east side of the castle, and again on the rocky patch to the north."

Hermione heard her hiss as the hot water hit her scraps in the next stall over, and shook her head in disbelief. It figured that the first friend she'd ever made was as crazy as her senile great aunt. Still she smiled as she turned on her own shower, happy that Arya hadn't actually left for breakfast without her; she had simply been out for a pre-dawn run across a boulder field.

"You should go see the school nurse before breakfast."

"Nah, too hungry. I'll go after lunch if they still hurt, they looked worse than they actually are; the bleeding has practically stopped already. You should try this hair care potion, it's the only reason I haven't had to shave my head, I swear. My dad says it turns my birds nest into something resembling real hair, - here."

Hermione yelped as a bottle of potion dropped over the edge of her stall, but managed to catch it before it smashed her toes. "Witch Weekly's Miracle Hair Tamer" was written in bubbly letters on the side, and Hermione figured 'why not'. Nothing had ever worked before, unless she'd wanted to spend hours every morning using various products, but this was magic, so perhaps…

Arya showed her a neat hair drying spell, and grinned when she got it right on the second try. Her friend's red hair was a bit wild looking despite the hair potion, falling down her back in curling and wavy lengths, but Hermione could imagine that it would have been a snarled mess without the potions. After seeing her own hair, Hermione immediately asked where she could order some of the potion for herself; she wasn't at all vain, but her masses of bushy hair were a pain to take care of. Braids frizzed out in a halo of little hairs, and ponytails turned into puff balls when attempted. Now her hair was still wavy and big, but the frizzy quality was gone, and when she put it back in a braid the halo of fuzz failed to make an appearance.

They met the boys in the common room, Ron looking as if he had just rolled out of bed, and made their way to the great hall for breakfast, following a group of older students so that they wouldn't get lost. Professor McGonagall handed out their schedules as they ate, and Hermione dragged the others away from their plates as soon as Arya had eaten her last serving of eggs and sausage.

"I ran four miles today and rolled another quarter mile down a hill, I need sustenance!"

"You ate three full plates, let's _go_."

They arrived early enough to charms to get front row desks, which neither of the boys seemed to think was a good thing.

Small professor Flitwick entered the classroom and a few moments later Hermione's first lesson in magic began; it was just as interesting as she'd hoped, and for the first time in her life she had friends to sit with in every class.

* * *

Arya's first week of classes was an interesting one, though Sirius had been correct to warn her that working through her course books in advance would leave her without much to do in classes. She'd read through every textbook beyond her grade level, as well as outside sources of reading material. Instead of not knowing answers to questions, she had a tendency to provide too much material, and instead of not being able to get her spells to work, they often were over done. Working with her own wand, rather than her parents, was taking some getting used to.

For the first few lessons she and Hermione often found their hands in the air at the same time, eager to answer the questions addressed to the class. Arya eventually suggested that they take turns raising their hands, alternating with each question, and then they didn't feel the need to compete with each other when a question came up. Hermione had just as good a memory as Arya had suspected, seeming to have memorized their text books entirely, and was often successful with her spells on the first or second try.

Neville had a bit of trouble with his wand movements, not understanding precisely how to gesture for each spell, but had better luck if Hermione or Arya moved his hand for him a few times before he attempted the spell. Arya suspected that he just didn't absorb written or spoken information as well as he understood and remembered physical movements; his memory was a bit shaky with incantations, so Arya suggested he write them down each night to help imprint them on his mind. If he didn't get too upset with himself the first time he failed, he did fine.

Ron had abysmal pronunciation, and got a bit offended the first few times Arya or Hermione corrected him, until he realized that he always did better after they pointed out where he was going wrong. It didn't help that Hermione had a slightly bossy voice, and tended to sound as if every problem was obvious, probably because to her it _was_. Arya ran intervention between the two of them, and Hermione caught on eventually, and started wording her corrections as suggestions, except when she got exasperated and reverted to commands.

Herbology was mostly new to Arya, since though she had read about many plants, she'd seen relatively few of them outside her potions kit. She recognized their names and uses, but had never worked with them before, which kept things interesting. Neville had an aptitude for the subject, and being out in the greenhouses was nice on the crisp fall days.

Arya had been looking forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts, thinking that it would be similar to the lessons that Sirius, Remus, and Tonks had given her, learning and practicing useful spells and fighting techniques. Instead, Defense turned out to be her only truly disappointing class; professor Quirrell never got over his apparent nerves, stuttered the entire lesson, frequently lost his train of thought, and never let them so much as cast a blasting hex. Arya was torn between feeling terribly sorry for the man, and being terribly annoyed with him. She tried to be kind and encouraging to him in classes, but missed her practical defense lessons with her family which made her current class seem so mundane in comparison.

Astronomy took place at midnight in the tallest tower, which was quite interesting; she hadn't studied astronomy much at home, since it lacked much practical uses for the level of magic they were doing. Astronomy became imported for magical working of a grander scale, or the raising of rare or powerful magical creatures; things that could only be done, or would work much better, depending on the positions of the stars in the sky.

At home Arya had loved History, but professor Bins had a voice that could put anyone but Hermione into a deep sleep, and Arya found it practically impossible to stay awake in that class. Thankfully she knew the material from her reading, and where her schedule read History of Magic, she'd scratched it out and written Nap Time.

By Thursday she was entirely tired of the stares and whispers that followed her around wherever she went, but she was getting very good at ignoring them.

She used her cloak to sneak around the castle that night, not because there was anything in particular she wanted to do, but just because she could. She ended up outside the third floor corridor, and pressed her ear cautiously against the door out of curiosity. Something on the inside must have smelled her, because there was a ferocious growling and snarling from the other side suddenly, and Arya jumped in surprise before quickly leaving the scene. Whatever beast was in there sounded enormous.

It was raining Friday morning, and Arya felt as if she was taking an eleven kilometers per hour shower, though the castle grounds were beautiful in the early morning rain. Her run took her by Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the forbidden forest, and he called out to invite her round for tea after her classes were done for the day. She shouted back that she'd be there, and started up the lane that led back to the castle to shower and dress for the day. She'd invited Hermione to join her, but her friend had implied that _she_ wasn't insane, so her runs were still solitary.

Ron groaned when he looked at their schedules and realized their one class of the day was double potions with the Slytherins, but Arya had been anticipating the class all week. Not only was she genuinely fond of potions, but she was eager to ascertain whether her suspicions regarding professor Snape were accurate. Sirius hadn't been able to hide his dislike of the man, and Tonks had said that he could be quite cruel to students who performed poorly in his classes; Arya just wanted to figure out whether he was her tutor or not.

The thought had come to her on her run Tuesday morning, and she was growing more convinced by the day that she was right. She'd already suspected that her tutor was Hogwarts staff, though that hadn't been confirmed, and it made sense that her teacher would test her abilities at the first opportunity. If he tried it again she'd let him through to her Liars Palace, and see if he'd recognize her work.

The dungeons where potions class was located were cold and damp, lit by torches along windowless passages that made Arya feel trapped and tense, it was hard to breath with the constricting feeling in her lungs. She trembled slightly and forced herself to calm down, dipping slightly into her Liars Palace, where her fear of enclosed spaces didn't exist; she could trick her mind into believing she wasn't afraid.

She'd known that Snape had bad history with Sirius and James, but she realized that it might have been worse than she'd assumed when he pronounced the name 'Potter-Black' off the roll call as if it had crawled out of the deepest pits of hell. He paused, his eyes flicking to hers, and then continued on down the list.

Snape's start of class speech was similar to the one McGonagall had given them, except that she had refrained from calling them all dunderheads, at least to their faces. The four of them were sharing a desk toward the front of the room, Hermione sitting on the edge of her seat looking painfully eager, and Neville sitting as far back as he could, looking a bit sick. The odd preserved specimens in jars around the room probably weren't helping.

"Potter!" He exclaimed suddenly, and Arya barely stopped herself from jumping. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"If you added the correct amount you'd get the Draught of Living Death, one of the most potent sleeping potions there is; it pretty much puts you in a coma. If you added too much you'd probably get a rather potent poison. Interestingly, the muggle childrens story of Sleeping Beauty probably originated with the case of… well, never mind, not relevant."

She stopped herself from detailing the interesting account she'd read in a history book that focused on the magical origins of muggle myths, religions, and fairytales. She thought she saw Snape's mouth twitch slightly up at the corner, but it might have been gas.

"No, not relevant at all, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"Probably in your supply cabinet, because bezoars are small rock like balls of sedimentation that form in the stomachs of goats, and you know, gross." She saw an eyebrow rise, and hastened to add, "But useful! Bezoars are kind of the cure all of potions ingredients, by themselves they'll cure all but the most lethal poisons."

"Glad to see you cracked a book before coming to school, girl. Tell me what the difference is between monkshood and wolfsbane."

Hermione looked like she was dying to rise her hand to answer as they had been all week, but she restrained herself.

"They're the same plant, sir. The Latin name is Aconitum, also known as aconite, and it's a deadly poison if taken alone, but is used in a variety of other potions. Most recently in the Wolfsbane potion, which if taken regularly will allow a person inflicted with lycanthropy to retain their rational minds."

Arya's practical application of potion brewing had been limited by safety concerns, but she had done extensive research on the subject. Snape sneered at the mention of lycanthropy, but accepted her answer and stopped bombarding her with questions, turning to the rest of the class instead.

"Well, why aren't you all writing that down?" He snapped, and there was a flurry of parchment and quills as everyone scrambled to comply.

In any other class her thorough answers would have earned her house points, but Snape didn't seem inclined to give any out. Arya paired up with Neville, who was eyeing Snape with evident fear in his eyes, and they set to brewing a simple potion to cure boils. Arya smiled, it was the first potion in the textbook, and she'd brewed if for the first time years ago, right after she'd gotten her first cauldron.

Neville, in his nervous state, almost blew up the cauldron by adding porcupine quills while it bubbling over the fire. She grabbed his arm at the last moment, and heaved a sigh of relief that catastrophe had been avoided; the potion was easy to brew, but a mistake like that could've blown the whole thing up.

"Are you alright?" She murmured as Snape swept past to sneer at Seamus and Dean's runny potion. "You've been a bit off."

Neville shot an uncomfortable glance at Snape, but just said he didn't much like the dungeons. Arya would have to ask him again later, because it was clearly more than that. Neville seemed downright scared of Snape.

Arya tried to catch the professor's eyes as the class went on, but after his deluge of questions at the beginning class he avoided looking directly at her. Malfoy, seated at the next table over, seemed to be a competent brewer but he was hard pressed to stop his thuggish friend Crabbe from screwing up their potion every other minute. The boy named Zabini was having the same problem partnered to Goyle, and Arya felt thankful that at least Neville wasn't that bad, just forgetful.

Small bottles with labels were given to each pair at the end of class for samples that would be graded by the next class, and Arya volunteered to hand the sample in, much to Neville's relief. Intentionally slipping to the back of the line, Arya lingered behind after handing in her potion as the other students slipped out the door. Snape still wasn't catching her eyes, so she decided to just ask a vague enough question that he wouldn't understand it if she was mistaken about him.

"So, when's our next lesson, sir?" If he looked at her like she was an idiot and said next Friday, she'd know she was wrong.

He glanced at her sharply, eyes like empty black corridors, and replied "Dumbledore has not specified if your training is to continue immediately or not. I was also not aware that he'd informed you of my identity." He seemed displeased.

Arya smiled. "He didn't, I just figured it out after the feast. Sorry for smashing at you, sir, I just panicked."

"Smashing someone out of your head with the force of a troll's club entirely defeats the purpose of creating a Liars palace. You're supposed to present yourself as weak, - and surprise isn't an acceptable excuse; you think your enemies will give you warning?"

"Of course not, sir. This is why I want more lessons; I want to get better, so that I don't make those kinds of mistakes with anyone else!"

He seemed satisfied with her answer. "Very well, I'll ask the headmaster if we are to continue this year." He paused, and then grudgingly added, "Your shield looked thorough, and the strength with which you repelled me shows promise."

Arya beamed at him, and he dismissed her with a negligent wave of a hand.


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N. Wow, 40 chapters! **

**Not a huge amount going on in this chapter, but things will pick up a bit in the next one. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to review, I appreciate all the suggestions, feedback, and general encouragement. **

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter 40

End of First Week of Term, Friday Afternoon

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Rain was still falling gently from the sky when lunch was over, and Arya and Hermione took their homework to the library, unable to convince the boys to come with them. Ron insisted that the first afternoon off of the week shouldn't be spent working, but Arya was functioning on the sooner started, sooner done theory.

She'd completed much of her homework throughout the week in the evenings, but there was a new essay to write for potions, and she needed to finish her transfiguration work as well. Though they could have worked in the common room the library was quieter, and it was also just plan amazing to be in; it was huge, for a start, and the towering shelves of books reached all the way to the vaulted ceiling, magical ladders moving along their lengths to provide access to the upper shelves. The pleasant smell of books was strong, and there was every subject imaginable available. Arya had already picked out about five books to read over the weekend, but had convinced herself that getting her work done first was a good idea.

Arya's hand was cramping by the time she finished the last line on her essay and rolled the parchment up to join the others stored in her bag, waiting to be turned in the next week. Ron and Neville were going to be kicking themselves by Sunday evening for not doing theirs sooner; Arya intended to save her weekends for enjoyment, and thus eagerly checked out all the interesting titles she could find. The librarian gave her a very suspicious look, as if she couldn't believe that a student would be checking out books that they didn't absolutely need for class work, and eyed Hermione the same way when she approached with a similar stack.

Arya tipped the whole lot of them into her book bag, and Hermione stared curiously, so Arya showed her how the insides had been magically expanded to fit as many books as she could ever need. The side compartment was normal sized for easy access to quills, parchment and ink, and Hermione looked like she'd never seen anything so wonderful. She was probably accustomed to carrying stacks of heavy books with her that wouldn't fit in her bag. Arya remembered that Hermione had a birthday coming up, and made a mental note to ask Sirius to alter another bag to send her way.

They dropped off their books, changed out of their school robes, which weren't required after classes were done for the week, and headed to Hagrids for tea, collecting Ron and Neville on the way. The boys had gotten to know Hagrid over the years they'd been friends with Arya, but Hermione had only seen him on the night of the feast.

Hagrid's boarhound Fang greeted them all by jumping up to put his paws on their shoulders and drooling all over their clothes; he looked fierce but wasn't aggressive at all, much like Hagrid himself. They introduced Hermione, who got her entire arm shaken, and settled around the table while Hagrid poured them all large glasses of tea and passed around a platter of rock cakes. Hagrid probably didn't realize that most people's jaws couldn't handle his baking, but Arya discovered that they were quite tasty if soaked in tea first to soften them up. Ron copied her after one of his teeth gave an ominous cracking sound.

Hagrid's house was a one room wooden cabin, with arched ceilings and rounded walls. There was a large hearth with the tea kettle over it, the small pink umbrella that Arya suspected hid his wand, leaning against the wall next to the fire. Windows lining the walls gave an excellent view of the forbidden forest out one side, and the castle looming up in the other direction. The day had finally cleared up, and the sun was shining enticingly down on the tree tops in the forest, filtering down through the leaves and creating an early dusk on the forest floor. Sirius had made her promise not to wander the forest alone, or to venture too far in, or to go at night; it was forbidden for good reason, and she had heard enough of his close calls to heed his commands.

"Hagrid, your job takes you into the forest all the time, doesn't it?" She asked, still gazing out the window longingly.

"Fairly often, yeah. All manner of creatures out there need care and attention, and I'm best able to take care of em."

"Do you think I could come along sometime?"

"Students aren't allowed in the forest!" Hermione interjected. "Dumbledore said so at the start of term."

"Not alone, no, but Hagrid is Hogwarts staff. The Care of Magical Creatures professor can take students out there, so I don't see why Hagrid couldn't do the same, since he works out there too."

Hagrid had swelled a bit with pride at Arya's assessment and replied, "I don't see why a daytime trip sometime would be a problem. You finish that book I got you last Christmas about the centaur herds round these parts?"

Arya nodded eagerly, and they launched into a discussion of the political tensions between wizards and non-human intelligent life, Hermione losing her look of disapproval as she became interested in the subject.

Arya longed to pester him about the package he had removed from the bank, and about what was guarding it, but she hadn't had a chance to talk to the others about it yet. Whatever had been guarding the other side of the door to the third floor corridor was definitely alive, and as Hagrid was the resident magical monster enthusiast he would be the first person she'd expect to know what it was. Her damned curiosity was at war with the fright that the deafening growls had given her, and now that the surprise had worn off curiosity was beginning to win out.

As they left Hagrids that evening to go to dinner in the great hall, Arya grew determined to at least take a peek behind that door during the night. Between the map and her invisibility cloak, she figured it'd be _reasonably_ safe. She also decided that she'd bring the others up to date; Ron and Neville had speculated with her about Hagrids timely removal of the small package from Gringotts and the attempted robbery of the vault on her birthday, but she hadn't shared her suspicions about the third floor corridor with them, and Hermione hadn't been cued in at all.

They wound their way up the slopping path to the castle, the air carrying a slight chill but the sun warm on their skin, and joined the rest of the students eating dinner in the great hall. It wasn't until later that evening, when the common room had cleared out except for a few students studying or goofing off, that Arya waved the others into a secluded corner of armchairs and began to fill them in on the rest of her theories, though she left out her speculations of Dumbledore's plans. After all, what was the point of her occlemency if she told all her friends who didn't have occlemency what was going on? Perhaps she'd be able to teach them some day; Hermione would probably jump at a chance to learn anything, but neither Ron, Neville, nor Ginny had expressed much interest on the subject. To be fair, Ginny had tried the basics a few times, but just couldn't seem to sit still long enough to get the hang of meditation.

They were all in agreement that the object from the bank could reasonably be assumed to now be located in the third floor corridor; the only place safer than Gringotts would have to be anywhere where Albus Dumbledore was. Arya stopped herself from pointing out that if Dumbledore only wanted it kept safe, than he'd just put the damned thing in his pocket. He was up to something more than that, she was sure. It was almost as if he wanted someone to go after it; it seemed like too obvious a trap to Arya, but this was the wizarding world, so perhaps something elaborate was expected.

Their talk quickly turned to what the small object could possibly be, but this was what they were least likely to find out without further clues. Arya's first guess had been that another Horcrux had been found, but she had quickly dismissed the idea; it would have been destroyed in the same manner as the others already. All they knew of the mysterious object was that it was small, had previously resided in vault seven hundred and thirteen, and was either very valuable or very dangerous, - likely both.

Arya paused mid thought, as Hermione was listing various magical artifacts that she'd read about; Arya didn't think it was likely to be Merlin's fabled cauldron. But perhaps they had more to work with than she'd first thought… Vault seven hundred and thirteen…

The lowest vaults in Gringotts were the oldest and had the most security, which was part of the reason everyone was so scared by the break in. The oldest and highest security vaults belonged almost exclusively to the old wizarding families; Dumbledore had led her to study old families and their legendary artifacts in her quest to track down the Deathly Hallows years ago, it seemed likely that she had already run across the mention of whatever it was.

She dove into her book bag without explanation, and didn't resurface before she had found the old book that she sought. She grinned with success, and then grimaced in distaste; she'd forgotten how large the old tome was, almost as thick as her head. She tuned the others out and ignored their curios stares, trying to narrow down the list in her head.

The object was in an old vault, thus it was likely also old and owned by an old family name. It was almost stolen, and was now being protected by the most powerful wizard alive; that told her that it was powerful itself, and attracted potentially dark wizards, for who else could break into the powerful bank? Whoever owned it had trusted Dumbledore to keep it safe; that in itself ruled out a large number of the old pureblood families, as many of them had been on opposing sides of the war. That was it, she realized, - they would research artifacts tied to old families, and then cross reference those families for connections and alliances with Dumbledore!

She came out of her reverie and interrupted Ron's circular rambling about possible guarding techniques to explain her plan. Ron looked a little less enthusiastic once he realized their plan actually required work, but Hermione's eyes were gleaming with the idea of it; right up until Arya mentioned her plan to take a peek behind the door that night, and that she'd already pressed her ear to it and heard some kind of animal growls from behind. Neville looked impressed, and Ron looked eager again, but Hermione was gaping at her in shocked disbelief, which was quickly giving way to frank disapproval.

"Out of bed after hours? You could have been caught! And so close to the forbidden corridor, you'd lose all the points you made in class this entire week…" Her face took on a look of confusion for the first time that week. "I don't understand; you get good marks…"

Arya had expected that Hermione would disapprove, but she now realized that to Hermione, the idea that a student could be academically driven _and_ a rule breaker were incompatible. She looked actually pained by the concept, and Arya tried not to grin at her distressed friend.

"If I lose the points I gained, then what does it matter? They're mine to lose! Besides, the house cup is an empty reward meant to keep students in line during the year with no actual benefits; house points don't appear on your academic transcripts, and employers don't care how many detentions you get as long as your marks are good. I personally don't see what the fuss about winning is, since you don't actually get anything besides a slap on the back."

Hermione gaped at her in horror, and Arya allowed herself to grin back at her; she liked Hermione, but the girl was going to have to loosen up and learn to have fun.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't plan on getting caught." She turned to Ron and Neville. "Meet down here at midnight tonight?"

Ron agreed readily, but Neville shook his head vehemently, a Hermione was sputtering something along lines of "can't- what are you- mental-out of bounds- lose points!"

As Arya climbed the tightly spiraling staircase to the girls dormitories, Hermione trailing her and lecturing non-stop about rule breakers, she thought that Neville probably had the best sense of them all. He didn't oppose the idea of breaking rules, he just didn't care to stick his head around a door that probably had some kind of fearsome beast behind it.

* * *

As it turned out, Hermione did end up coming with Arya and Ron, simply because she tailed them out of the common room, attempting to persuade them to turn around and go back to bed. When she finally gave up and turned around, it was to discover that the Fat Lady wasn't in her frame. Arya grinned again at the look on Hermione's face when she realized that she had inadvertently put herself out of bounds with no way to get back inside; she was breaking the rules just as much as they were.

"My dad says she spends most Friday nights with her friend Violet in a different picture, drinking huge amounts of mead and having_ very_ inappropriate conversations about the older students. She should be back in an hour or so, and too drunk to tell anyone we were out of bed…"

"If anyone catches us I'm telling them this was all your idea!" Hermione hissed.

Arya waved a hand at her to hush, glancing at the marauders map to make sure the way was still clear. Filtch was skulking around the fourth floor, but on the other end of the castle. Dumbledore was pacing in his office, almost perfectly in time with Snape, who was pacing in his dungeon. Peeves appeared to be wreaking havoc with the charms classroom, and the path to the third floor was clear.

They approached the door as quietly as they could, and Arya was amused to see that Hermione was as curious as she and Ron were, her disapproval momentarily forgotten. Arya pressed her ear against the door, and shook her head at the other two to indicate that all was silent. They backed away for a moment, and Arya dug in her bathrobe and pulled out her invisibility cloak, and ignored Hermione's awed expression as she threw it over all three of them.

It was a tight fit, but Arya managed to poke her wand out of the cloak and whisper 'Alohamora' at the door, which clicked open, much to her surprise. What are you playing at, Dumbledore? She wondered, and eased the door open enough for the three of them to peer around the corner cautiously.

Almost immediately, Arya knew why Dumbledore had warned the students of a painful death that awaited anyone who wandered in; three monstrously large dog heads lifted off the floor where they'd been resting, sniffing the air that drafted in from the open door and emitting soft put threatening growls, saliva dripping in ropes from each of the barred mouths.

Hermione gasped, Ron squeaked, and Arya slammed the door shut again, all concern for quiet elapsed by the sight of the three headed dog that took up the entire corridor inside.

They stayed under the cloak until they were outside of the portrait hole, the Fat lady mercifully back in her frame and looking truly plastered. She raised an eyebrow at their appearance from under the cloak, but hiccupped and waved them in when they gave the password. They clambered into the common room and collapsed onto a plush couch in front of a fireplace that still had a bed of coals glowing inside.

"What is he thinking, putting a Cerberus in a school?!" Arya finally exclaimed, still feeling a bit shaky from the shock. "And where did he even get one? They're really rare, and really illegal to trade in; Hagrid always said he'd like to see one, but… Oh Merlin, he must have found a trader on the black market…"

"Did you see what it was standing on?" Hermione asked, seeming to have recovered faster than Arya or Ron. Ron shook his head, but Arya nodded. "A trap door; we were right, it is guarding something."

"I suppose an Greek hellhound is the paramount guard dog." Arya muttered. "So what artifact warrants the descendent of the guardian of Hades above its trap door?"

"Right now I'm just glad we're not dead, or worse, - expelled." Hermione huffed, standing up from the couch. "Now we should all go to bed, before you come up with any more clever ideas involving mythological monsters that want to bite our heads off."

Ron muttered something about priorities, but stood to make his way to bed anyway, leaving Arya to ponder her thoughts alone by the dying fire. She glanced at the map, and saw that professor Snape had left his office, and was now pacing the space in front of the third floor corridor; professor Quirrell was making his way back toward his office from somewhere unknown. Arya had to squint her tired eyes to make out his name; it appeared in a blurry line above his dot on the map.

She smothered a yawn and rubbed her hand across her eyes before tapping the map and whispering 'mischief managed', just as both of her fathers had done for years before her, sitting on the same red couch after a night of adventures in the vast castle below.


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N. I like writing smart characters, I hope this is still believable. I tried to keep a logical progression, so if you have any questions pm me and I'll try to clear things up.**

**I generally post chapters as soon as I write them, unless I happen to pump out two in a day, which is rare. Some days I can write upward of five thousand words in a day, for several days in a row; when this happens my fiance starves because I don't cook for a week, the laundry piles over-run the bedroom, the dishes pile in the sink, and the cats begin to gnaw on my toes because I don't get up to feed them as much as they'd prefer. This isn't even mentioning the garden amassing weeds and my own personal lack of hygiene, or the wedding planning that gets neglected (I'm getting married in like, a month). **

**At other times, I sit down to write, pull up a blank page, and stare at the screen for a few minutes with my mind going 'derp' over and over. At that point I give it a rest and do real life things, like showering and un-burying the house from mounds of crap. **

**The point is, have patience with me. It does make me happy that people are eager for updates though, it's good inspiration. ****I have every intention of finishing this story, though I suspect it will take a long ass time. **

**As always, thank you for reading and reviewing! **

Chapter 41

Saturday September 6th through second week of term.

Arya's prediction that Ron and Neville were going to be kicking themselves by the end of the weekend for not getting started on their homework was a hundred percent accurate. Neville had at least begun his on Saturday, but worked at a slower pace than Ron, with the result that both spent the entirety of Sunday afternoon and most of Sunday night bent over their books and parchments, hands cramping and eyes sore. Hermione couldn't quite keep the 'I told you so' expression off of her face, but would have caved to Ron's pleas for help if Arya hadn't been there to stop her.

"If you give him all the answers he's never going to bother to do it himself!" Arya exclaimed, clapping a hand over Hermione's mouth as the other girl was about to list the charm components needed for Flitwik's essay. "And Ron, no one as brilliant as you are at chess is dumb; stop trying to skive off the work, the answers are all in chapter two, just read it yourself."

Ron scowled at her, but opened his textbook to the correct page. His problem wasn't that he was dumb, it was that he was lazy.

Arya knew that was a simplification of her friends problem though; with five elder brothers who were all successful in their own way, Arya knew that Ron's motto had become 'why bother'. Even if he did well, someone had done it better before him, and it was easier to not try in the first place than to make an attempt and fall short of the mark. Arya also knew that he couldn't help but compare himself to her and now Hermione also, and that wasn't really fair at all.

He'd have to learn to see himself as an individual instead of part of a matched set, because as much as she cared for her friend, Arya wasn't willing to hold herself back to protect his ego.

Neville and Ron muddled through, and Arya and Hermione were happy to point them to the helpful chapters and lead them to the correct references, without actually giving away the answers. By the time they had finished the work due on Monday, Neville asked if he could join them in going to the library to do their work as it was assigned during the week, and Ron, with all of his friends now in on it, was forced to go along with the plan.

Arya hadn't been idle as her friends worked, because she had work of her own to do, though she had been the one to assign it to herself; she was re-reading her old books on lineage and magical artifacts, and dutifully copying down notes that she thought might be relevant. Hermione had checked out books from the Library about Dumbledore, which listed his achievements and general history, but lacked almost any personal information; there was little said about his family, and not even a peep about Grindewald until his rise to power and their subsequent dual. Arya kept what she knew of his personal history to herself, figuring that he must have gone to some lengths to keep his private life private; nosy reporters and gossips were hard to avoid.

They would compare their lists once they had finished their work, but as they were working out of curiosity and had no deadline for their project, they were more casual with it than they could have been. In fact, if it hadn't been for Arya's driving need to know everything about everything, she would have turned in for the night when the others did, instead of sinking deeper into the armchair by the fire and continuing to read the half familiar pages or her old book. Her notepad lay on the thick armrest next to her, her self-inking quill held loosely in her hand.

The clock was creeping past midnight, and her eyes were starting to move over the words without taking them in by the time she finished the chapter that detailed an artifact that had supposedly belonged to Merlin himself. She didn't think that one was likely, and moved her tired eyes to the next chapter without making a note on her page.

There wasn't much known about the Philosopher's Stone, due to the fact that there was only one Wizard who had succeeded in creating one, and the fact that it hadn't passed down a genetic line of inheritance. Nicholas Flamel and his wife Perenelle were notorious for their love of privacy, and lived the majority of their immortal lives away from prying eyes, emerging only briefly in the last century to join their alchemy skills with the knowledge of Albus Dumbledore, resulting in the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood….

Arya blinked, rubbed her eyes, and sat up straighter in her chair, bringing the book closer to the light of the fire to read the chapter in earnest. Of _course, _she'd read about Nicholas Flamel before; his was the only known stone in existence, said to give unlimited life and wealth to whoever possessed it. The biggest mystery to most surrounding the stone was why the maker hadn't made himself disgustingly famous and notorious by giving out the elixir and gaining himself power; he'd instead allowed himself and his creation to sink into obscurity.

The twelve uses of dragon's blood were the achievement that had gained Dumbledore a chocolate frog card, along with his duel and defeat of Grindewald. Arya had studied those because of their potions uses; Slughorn had given her a copy of the original studies as a birthday gift over a year ago. Feeling more awake, she finished the rather short chapter on the stone, and scribbled a hasty note on her pad, and circled it twice for good measure; here was an object both small and powerful, owned not by and old family, but by a couple who were themselves ancient, and who had a history of working with Dumbledore.

It was the jackpot of coincidences, and Arya wasted no time in waking Hermione to point out the compelling chapter. She'd no sooner pulled back her friends curtains and shaken her awake before she adamantly wished she'd waited until morning; Hermione's hair was a bushy halo around her entire head, and she looked none too pleased to be woken up in the middle of the night, scowling at Arya through bleary eyes.

Arya gulped, but pointed out the chapter heading as she thrust the book into her friends lap, and held up her lit wand for illumination. Hermione understood quickly, and her grumpy expression faded as comprehension dawned. When she looked up and met her eyes, Arya knew that Hermione was in agreement with her conclusions, and that they both knew what the next question was, - who would go to such great length to steal it?

As Arya finally pulled the curtains closed around her own bed for the night, she couldn't help but think of what everyone had been avoiding saying since the break in at the bank. All the speculations she'd heard about who the culprit could be had puttered off with bitten off sentences and downcast eyes; no one wanted to suggest Voldemort, but everyone was wondering if he was behind it. No one had ever broken in to Gringotts and gotten away clean, and the implications of serious dark magic were evident.

As Arya closed her eyes to sleep, her mind listed the properties of the stone: wealth and unlimited life. Dumbledore had never believed Voldemort to be gone, and she knew first hand that the Horcruxs chained the dark wizard's soul to life; would the elixir of life be enough to bring him back from his half death?

Before she had been driven by pure curiosity, but now she felt a heaviness in her heart as she drifted off to sleep, wondering if even now, Voldemort was plotting another attempt to steal his chance at returning power from the depths of the castle. Her last comforting thought before she drifted into an uneasy sleep was that Dumbledore was aware of more than she was, and was doubtlessly planning for all the possibilities.

The second week of term passed in much the same manner as the first, though Ron and Neville ere now additions to the table in the library during the evenings, reluctantly working through assignments as they were received, instead of putting them off until the last moment. Hermione seemed relieved that Ron and Neville still wanted to be friends with her when she refused to give them the answers, and Arya suspected that she hadn't had many good experiences with her classmates before coming to Hogwarts. She hadn't talked about it yet, and Arya didn't want to pry.

Both Hermione and the professors were cross to find that Arya had been reading library books under her desk during classes, but since she answered every question flawlessly there wasn't much they could do besides confiscate the book until the end of class.

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and took away the book after reprimanding her to pay attention, but Arya swore she saw the stern woman smiling as she read the title of the confiscated book, 'Animagus Transfigurations, How to Begin the Change'. McGonagall's own essay was featured in chapter ten, and she could hardly remain angry at Arya for long.

She did hold her back after class to inquire about her intentions regarding an animagus transformation, and to simultaneously warn her not to attempt it and offer help if she needed it. Arya took that to mean, 'don't do it, but if you do decide to do it, let me help you'. Arya grinned and assured her that she'd come by for help when she was ready to try it, and scampered out the door while professor McGonagall was still shaking her head in disapproval, her lips quirked up in a wry smile.

Ron was slightly astonished to see his good marks on his returned homework later in the week, since he'd started joining the girls in the library, and subsequently stopped complaining so much about their over-zealous work schedule.

A notice went up on the common room board that quidditch practice was to start on their previously free Friday afternoons, and their group was split done the middle as far as reactions went; Ron and Arya were excited to be able to fly again, and Hermione and Neville were positively sick with nerves.

Neville's gran hadn't let him anywhere near a broomstick in his entire life, and thus he'd built up an irrational fear of flying. Hermione had never had much interest in sports, even when they let both of her feet stay on the ground, and the fact that you couldn't learn flying from a book meant that by Friday she was on the verge of panic. Arya considered dosing her friends with a home brewed calming tonic when they weren't looking, but decided against it, considering that it would be illegal. After putting up with Hermione's out-loud reading of 'Quidditch Through the Ages', and Neville's nervously peering over her shoulder all day, she wished she'd thrown caution to the winds and broken her first law at the tender age of eleven.

Neville especially wasn't faring well, his dislike of potions, (or more likely of Snape), combined with his fear of flying made him even clumsier than usual, and even Arya was hard pressed to prevent him from mixing up their potion ingredients. Snape didn't help, - in fact he made it much worse than it needed to be, prowling through the aisles and making snide remarks each time anyone made a mistake. He'd had the same reaction to her name at roll call as he had the week before, but otherwise appeared to pay her no heed.

Their sole communication during class came about when he spotted her grabbing the vial of silk worm juice out of Neville's hands, preventing him from adding it a good four steps too soon. Snape bore down on Neville, a nasty smirk playing around his mouth, to ask him just how it came to be that he'd turned out to be so incompetent, considering that he came from such a long line of talented wizards and witches. Wouldn't his parents just be _so_ ashamed?

Neville bowed his head and shrank down in his seat, and something in Arya snapped; she stood up from the table so fast that her chair tipped over and clattered noisily to the floor.

"_Stop_." Her voice didn't come out as loud as the angry burning in her chest suggested that it would, but it was laced with more viciousness than she'd ever felt.

Neville had never confided in her about what had happened to his parents, and she'd never asked him. She'd simply looked it up in the old newspapers.

For Snape to taunt him with it, hanging it over his head like that, he was basically saying 'good thing they can't see you now'. Arya had previously thought that the term 'seeing red' was purely metaphorical, but now she discovered that it was not. Her peripheral vision fuzzed into a deep black, and Snape's face was visible through a red haze.

How… How _dare_ he?

As she looked into those dark and seemingly lifeless eyes, she attempted something that she'd never tried before; legilemency. She didn't attempt to penetrate the defenses of his mind, which appeared to her as empty tunnels, leading nowhere and containing nothing, she simply projected every ounce of indignant rage that was currently making her blood boil into his head.

Spitting her emotions out at him left her feeling incredibly drained, and she leaned forward to brace her arms on the desk in front of her, looking up at him with now clear sighted eyes. She expected a cutting remark and points deducted, perhaps even detention; instead he looked at her blankly for a moment, and she thought she perhaps saw a flash of something in his haunted eyes. She hoped it was shame.

"Sit back down, girl."

She sat, and he swept away from the table and didn't speak to either her or Neville for the rest of class. Neville was subdued, and when she met his eyes as they were packing up, she somehow knew that he understood her outburst; he knew she knew about him.

When Snape called for her to remain behind after class, she almost ignored him, pausing in the direction of the door for several long seconds before finally turning back and approaching his desk. She stood silently and waited for him to speak, unwilling to be the first to break the tense silence.

"Dumbledore has instructed that you are to be trained in Oclemency once a week, beginning next Friday. You are to tell people that you are being held for extra potions lessons."

Arya raised an eyebrow, and tried to keep the poison out of her voice. "No ones' going to believe I need remedial potions, Sir."

"You are to tell them it's an advanced course. You are still attending regular class, so no one will be think you're being given special treatment. Report to my office at seven next Friday, no excuses. You're dismissed."

Arya didn't rush on her way to join her friends for lunch, feeling conflicted as she made her way up the sloping stone passages filled with flickering torch light. She had wanted more training, and she was getting what she wanted. Yet now she was reevaluating the person she thought she had come to know through several years' worth of correspondence; her tutor had come off as a serious and jaded type, and she had often thought that he must be very sad. What she had seen today wasn't sad, - it was cruel.

She stopped before she reached the upper floors of the castle, hearing the hustle and bustle of students moving toward the great hall, but still standing within the quiet of the dimly lit corridor of flickering torches.

Snape had been cruel, but it was Arya's own reaction to him that was gnawing at her. She'd never felt that kind of rage before, as if it was a fire that was going to burn its way out of her chest. She hadn't thought, she'd just reacted. The violence of her own emotions gave her pause, and she didn't know if there was something wrong with what had happened.

She stared into the torchlight, and practiced the breathing techniques that Dumbledore had taught her at the beginning of her training, calming her mind and organizing her thoughts.

Snape had been in the wrong, she decided, and her anger was justified. The all-consuming nature of it was troubling, but she had been right to feel it as she had. There would have been something wrong with her to not feel as she had, and there was something wrong with Snape that he didn't feel as she did. No one who was entirely right in the mind could behave in such a way; it wasn't normal.

Maybe, if they were to train together, she could show him why. Maybe she could help him.

Mind made up, she left the corridor behind, joining her friends under the bright sunlight shining down from the enchanted ceiling, and gently teasing Neville and Hermione about their nerves until they started looking more annoyed than panicky.

Severus Snape didn't go to lunch that day, - he didn't even leave the seat behind his teachers desk until his final class of the week entered an hour after his double period of torture with the first year students. His NEWT class was at least mostly devoid of idiots, since he required an O to proceed to the level. Their relative competence allowed him to resume his seat as they worked in silence.

Being around the girl was hard enough, but being around the Longbottom boy as well… That first class of term his mind had been almost entirely caught up with judging the character of Lily's daughter, but this week had been different. He hadn't been able to shake the thought that had popped into his head as he stared at the fumbling, round faced boy who was partnered with the girl.

_It should have been you._

The boy was incompetent, hopelessly forgetful, and weak.

He had been born at the end of July, his parents had thrice defied the Dark Lord and escaped with their lives; it should have been him. The Dark Lord had chosen to go after the girl instead, and Lily had died.

The boy's parents were as good as dead anyway, what did it matter if he wished they had died in truth?

He'd let his disgust guide his tongue, and the girl had sprang to the boy's defense with a fury that had surprised him almost as much as the communicated surge of emotions pushed into the forefront of his mind.

In that moment she had absolutely despised him, and he had felt certain that the girl's emotion had been driven by compassion and protectiveness.

It had brought to mind the image of Lily, standing protectively in front of him, facing down his tormentors as she had done so many times during the few short years of their friendship. Lily had been no stranger to righteous anger, often on his behalf, and the image of her burning green eyes was one that he'd never forget.

The girl's eyes had looked like that for a moment, staring daggers at him for his taunting of the boy. More disturbing to him than the sight of that look being directed at him, was the look in her eyes as he had instructed her to come to his office for lessons the next week.

Lily had never been able to make her emerald green eyes look like cold steel traps.


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N. Just a fun little chapter I whipped out today!**

**I have a special place in my heart for the poor souls who find this story and then waste a good chunk of their lives attempting to read it in one sitting. I've had a few people tell me that this has happened, and I'd just like to say... Are you insane? Go eat some food, go to the bathroom, let your family know you're still alive, and for god's sake take a shower, you crazy person. **

**That being said, I do the same thing when any Brandon Sanderson books get released, so I do understand. **

**Thanks for reading, and thank you for all the reviews!**

* * *

Chapter 42

Friday afternoon, same day.

Flying lessons didn't take place on the quidditch pitch, but instead on a relatively flat piece of lawn in the shadow of the castle's towering walls. Neville was showing his nerves by being more quiet and fidgety than normal, fumbling with the Remember-all his gran had sent him that morning as they stood on the grassy lawn, waiting for Madame Hooch to signal the start of class.

The Slytherins and Gryffindors were standing in two very distinct groups, not associating with each-other at all, despite their shared schedule. Arya noticed Malfoy sneering over at them when he thought no one was looking, and resisted rolling her eyes at him. She and Malfoy had straddled the very edge of civility in all their previous encounters, but the act was beginning to wear thin; Malfoy detested Ron, ignored Neville, and sneered in disgust at the very sight of Hermione.

Arya liked to think of herself as a patient type of person, but the half veiled insults and threatening hints of how her poor taste was going to do her in some day were starting to get old.

Madame Hooch finally signaled for them to step up beside a broom, and Arya took the place to Neville's right, staring down at the dismal sight that was to be her practice broomstick; it was ancient, warped, and missing a large number of twigs from the tail. Arya was slightly aghast that Sirius had let the matter of school broomsticks slide as a priority of the school governors. This decrepit thing couldn't actually fly, could it?

Madame Hooch instructed them to rise a few feet and then come down again on her whistle, after everyone had managed to get their brooms into position and their grips corrected.

Arya had time to feel anxious to get the basics over with, and also feel some trepidation about having _everyone_ go at once, before Madame Hooch began the count down, and Neville, anxious to be brave in spite of his fear, kicked off too soon.

Arya knew he was in trouble before he even managed to scream, and she felt as if time slowed for a moment, watching the way his feet were dangling from the broom, throwing him off balance, the broom lurching higher as he attempted to correct his awkward position. She felt for a moment as if she were standing in the woods behind the Tonks's house again, paralyzed by fear instead of springing into action as she should have; and then time returned to normal again, and Arya had kicked off into the air before she had time to consider that attempting to catch a boy who weighed more than she did in mid-air was ill-advised.

Her right hand closed around the back of his robes just as he had begun to slip from the broom, and his weight transferring into her hold jerked her dangerously off balance. She locked her feet into position and leaned back as far as she could, stopping her broom from rocketing to the ground as the tip dipped toward the lawn.

They landed in an undignified heap, and at a faster pace than Arya would have liked; her shoulder hit the ground rather hard, and when she rolled to absorb the impact, the broom handle dug into her ribs; all and all, it was still better than a free fall from twenty five feet in the air.

Neville was in decent condition when Arya untangled her limbs from her broom handle and turned to check on him. He was sitting upright, and looked more embarrassed than hurt; Arya offered him a hand up, and they stood in time to reassure Madame Hooch that they weren't hurt. She fussed over them for a moment to make sure they were alright, flustered that an accident had occurred within the first five minutes of class. Neville thanked her in an undertone as Ron and Hermione ran up to them, and Arya shrugged it off, clapping a hand on his back and giving him a quick one armed hug.

To Arya's relief, Madame Hooch asked for a show of hands to see how many students hadn't ever been on a broom before, and decided that they should split into groups; Hermione, Neville, and a few other students would take turns going up one at a time, with Madame Hooch to supervise with her wand at the ready.

The rest of them were told to practice taking off, rising a few feet into the air, and landing again. There was much relieved murmuring from the new flyers, and much annoyed grumbling from the more experienced students. Malfoy, after venting his frustration at not being allowed to fly properly, or with a decent broom, eventually gave way to mocking Neville and miming falling from a broom, complete with girlish shriek.

Arya, though also disappointed to not be in the air more, and with the state of the brooms, glared at the back of his white blond head and contented herself with flicking twigs that she'd picked up from the grass at him. Every time he turned around to see who'd done it, Arya pretended to be hard at work practicing her take-offs.

Ron almost collided with Seamus because he was laughing so hard, and Arya finally cracked into a fit of giggles at Ron's antics, giving herself away. Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles in what they must have thought was a threatening way, and Malfoy flushed a light shade of pink. Arya laughed harder, and he turned away from her with a sneer.

Tensions between them had been rising, and Arya felt that something was going to have to give soon. She had rejected his every offer of friendship, and was out performing him in potions, the only other class they shared. He was obviously used to getting his every wish, and his composure was beginning to slip as he grew more frustrated with her. Arya ignored the heated glares he was sending her way, ceased chucking small projectiles at him, and gave into the temptation to soar off into the sky above the castle grounds. It took Madame Hooch a full ten minutes to realize that one of her students was do vertical loops high in the air over her head, and took a whole ten points from Gryffindor when her errant student finally landed, though she looked more impressed than angry.

Malfoy scowled harder.

They might have gone to the library after class, except that both Neville and Hermione looked a bit ashen from their flying, and chess next to a merry fire in the common room seemed like a better option until it was time for dinner. Neville perked up a bit as he watched Ron and Hermione play; it was a great distraction for Hermione to actually lose at something, and it always managed to cheer Ron up on a gloomy day.

Ron was still trying to explain to her why she'd lost, even though she'd followed all the rules, as they were digging into kidney pie at dinner. Though the hall was large and crowed, filled with milling and chattering students, Arya noticed Malfoy's pale blond head making its way toward them from her peripheral vision and sighed, setting down her forkful of food.

Between potions class and flying lessons, she was beginning to feel that the day was just destined to be full of conflicts and hazards. At least life was never dull.

It seemed that Malfoy had finally decided to drop all pretense of friendliness, and his customary sneer was fully in place as he approached where they were seated.

"I see you're still hanging on the arm of you protector, Longbottom. Too afraid to go anywhere without your _girl_ there to save you?"

Arya might have expected Neville to flush and look away, or perhaps to just tell him to bugger off, but he surprised her.

"Don't see what her being a girl has anything to do with it." He muttered, and met Malfoy's eyes for a moment defiantly.

Arya jumped in, grinning at her friend comeback. "Yeah, Draco, what _does_ my gender have to do with it? If being female makes me weaker in your mind, than you needing two big ol' boys to guard you must make you weaker than Neville here, if he just needs a little girl like me… Bet you wouldn't try to insult me without your bodyguards here to keep you safe."

Malfoy didn't seem to like the tides turning around on him, because his angry pink flush was back. Crabbe and Goyle flexing their muscles and cracking their fingers only served to prove her point about their bodyguard status, and Ron and Hermione snickered instead of getting intimidated; under the watchful eyes of the staff, there wasn't any real danger of attack.

"I could take either of you on by myself, Potter!" He spat out, and Arya saw her opportunity arise in his next sentence. "Wizards duel, you and me, Potter, if you're not too afraid."

"You're on," Arya stated, before Hermione could intercede. "There's an abandoned classroom that's unlocked on the fourth floor, five doors down from the portrait of the three hags in pajamas. Meet you there at midnight. Who's your second?"

Malfoy again looked taken aback, but quickly sized up his two thuggish friends. "Crabbe. Yours?"

"Hermione."

Hermione choked on the water she'd been drinking, and Arya clapped her on the back as Malfoy nodded curtly and left for the Slytherin table, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him on either side.

"I am not going to fight in an illegal duel, out of bounds at midnight!" She spluttered as Arya clapped her on the back.

"Relax Hermione," Arya said, picking up her fork to eat her now cold kidney pie. "No one's going to be fighting any duels."

"Oh. We're not?" Hermione almost seemed disappointed, despite her indignation from a moment before.

"Of course not. The chances of him actually showing up are slim to nil, and beside the point, I don't particularly feel like missing sleep tonight." Ron was giving her a funny look, and she grinned after swallowing her bite. "So, just in case he does show up, who wants to help me hang dung bombs over the classroom door?"

Ron and Neville grinned with evil intent, and even Hermione couldn't summon up much protest, eventually being persuaded to stand guard for them down the corridor as the other three affixed dung bombs above the door, designed to drop on the next person to open it.

* * *

It wasn't until the next day, as Arya was returning to the common room from her morning run, that she found out the full consequences of their prank; as she passed an irate Filch in the entrance hall, Arya realized that Malfoy had indeed failed to show up for their supposed duel, and had instead tipped of the caretaker that students were likely to be out of bed, and were planning to meet up in that particular room.

As Arya gagged at the enormous stench that clung to Filch she tried to cover her nose with her hand without catching his attention, eventually resorting to running past him and up the many staircases towards the common room when he noticed her reaction. She managed to make it to a hidden chamber behind a tapestry before collapsing in a fit of silent laughter.

Malfoy had intended to get them caught, but instead of finding students, Filch had been the victim of a stink bombing incident, and he was going to believe that Malfoy set him up. Arya idly wondered, as she finally recovered from her fit, just how many detentions Malfoy was going to have to serve for her prank.

Indeed, Malfoy was in a rotten mood for the entire next week, and Arya heard through the rumor mill that he was serving nightly detentions, scrubbing every trophy in the trophy room without magic. Her glory was cut short when on Thursday he retaliated by casting a leg-locker curse at Neville as he was leaving the bathroom, and Arya, furious, had plans to hit him with a nasty tickling hex as soon as his feet left the ground during their Friday flying lesson.

Her plot for revenge was foiled by the fact that Madame Hooch was accompanied by professor McGonagall and an older student that Arya recognized as a Gryffindor as the class gathered on the lawn.

Madame Hooch instructed them to review their form and take off technique, and Arya had turned around to do so, shrugging off her curiosity about the extra people present, when Madame Hooch instead called her over and introduced her to the older student. She kept it brief and to the point.

"Arya Potter, this is Oliver Wood." They shook hands. "Oliver is the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Potter. Go do that practice routine you did last week."

Arya raised an eyebrow in confusion, considering that tryouts had been last week, and that first years weren't even allowed their own brooms, but took off to do as instructed. The old broom was slower than she was used to, vibrated when it got too high, and listed slightly to the left like a bad trolley at a grocery store, but she put it through the stringent moves of an advanced mobility routine anyway.

When she landed, professor McGonagall looked like she was trying to hide her excitement and Oliver Wood was doing nothing to hide the manic gleam in his eyes as he looked at her. It was vaguely threatening, especially as no one actually spoke to her besides Madame Hooch, who told her to get back in the air, and proceeded to launch gold painted golf balls past her with her with her wand; Arya obliged by streaking after them, somehow managing to catch them on her awful broomstick, sometimes just barely before they hid the ground again.

The look in Wood's eyes when she landed again was positively frightening in its excitement, and his voice was strained when he spoke.

"How would you like to be the youngest Seeker in a century, Potter?"

"Oh, er…" She had been intending to try out next year, and between her runs, full schedule of classes, home work, occlemency lessons, and spending time with her friends, she was generally exhausted by the end of the week. Instead of explaining this, she hedged, "First years aren't allowed our own brooms. I can't play on this old thing."

It was professor McGonagall who decided for her. "I think we can make an exception, Miss Potter. Everyone trying out for seeker this year was abysmal, and if we lose to Slytherin one more year in a row, I'll never be able to show myself in the staff room again. Practice is three evenings a week Miss Potter; I expect to hear that you're training hard."

With that, she left to return to the castle, Madame Hooch dismissed Arya from flying lessons, and Oliver Wood practically dragged her off to the Quidditch pitch to see what else she could do. Arya sighed, and tromped along after him in defeat, wondering how she was going to find time for the less important things in life, such as eating and sleeping.


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N. This might be the last one for a while, since I'm heading out to WI in a few days to visit family for a few weeks, but I'll post from there if I get a chance to write. **

**Wow, thanks for all the reviews! You guys are awesome, hope you enjoy!**

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Chapter 43

Arya didn't walk back to the castle after Wood finally let her go from the quidditch pitch, nor did she fly, run, or jog, - the only way to describe it was a trudge. She had flown often with Sirius and the Weasleys, but Wood had put her through a rigorous training drill to see what she could do, and though they had started in the early afternoon, the sun was now creeping behind the mountain tops behind the castle, and Arya was sore. Her arms and legs ached, and there was a particularly nasty throbbing from her right shoulder, probably caused by the repeated motion of reaching out to grab the balls flying away from her in every direction. Her torso tingled in a way that let her know her core muscles would be screaming by morning, and Wood had waved her off with a cheerful "See you tomorrow morning for a _real_ practice!" as she'd finally hit the ground.

The sad part was that she wasn't even out of shape; she was just using different muscles than she normally did. She wondered vaguely how people who _were_ out of shape managed when they first joined the team, if she was in such discomfort after one session under Woods direction. Poor blighters.

The great hall was already full from the dinner rush when Arya finally stumbled into a seat next to Ron, grabbed everything within reach and began to eat, ignoring the questions that Ron and the others were pelting her with until she had devoured enough food to satisfy a hungry bear. Hermione gave her a rather offended look when she finally let out a loud belch, and paused long enough to tell them in a hushed voice that she had been recruited for the Quidditch team.

"But don't tell anyone, Wood wants it kept quiet, - something about me being a 'secret weapon'." She grabbed the chicken leg that Ron was holding in a limp hand, too stunned to move, and took a large bite as she checked her watch. "Bloody hell! I'm going to be late for Snape's lesson!"

She tossed the half eaten chicken leg back to Ron, waved a hasty goodbye to Neville and Hermione, and dashed out of the hall as fast as her protesting legs could carry her, dodging the Weasley twins as they attempted to corner her. As members of the team, Wood would have told them of the newest recruit already, but she had no time to stop and discuss it with them; her watch said that it was five to seven, and making Snape wait seemed like a bad idea.

She skidded to a halt outside of his office door, and checked her watch before knocking, grinning in success; it was seven pm on the dot.

"Enter." Came Snape's drawling monotone, and Arya entered the dimly lit office, stone walls lined with shelves and torchlight casting deep shadows across the room. Snape's pale skin shone in sharp contrast to his dark hair, eyes, and robes, and Arya repressed her unease at being in an enclosed space so far underground.

Snape gestured for her to take the seat across from him at the desk, and spoke as she settled into the uncomfortable wooden chair, looking curiously at the jarred specimens lining the shelves behind the desk. She snapped back to attention as Snape began to speak.

"The objective of our lesson today is for me to assess your current abilities. This will allow us to focus our attention on the areas in your mind that most need work for future lessons. I will examine first your outer shield that you have constructed to be easily broken, which I will break. I will then examine your Liars Palace, both recent memories and old, - to assess their accuracy and believability. I will then attempt to penetrate your inner shield, to find its weaknesses; lastly I will examine true memories of your choosing, to compare to the false ones you have created in their place; this contrast will help me see the illusion you are attempting to create for yourself, do you understand?"

Arya did understand, and it made her feel slightly ill. Letting Dumbledore into her mind was one thing, but she suspected that Snape's mental touch would not be as gentle. Dumbledore had taken years to build up experience and each new lesson had been approached slowly; Snape was going to break all her shields and root through all her memories, both real and fake. She knew even before starting that this was going to leave her with a headache to match her sore muscles, but she was determined to learn.

She nodded tersely, and Snape wasted no time in beginning, leaning forward in his chair and looking into her eyes intently. Neither of them needed their wands for what needed to be done, Arya had long since moved beyond the need to speak the counter spell to a mental intrusion; the defense was already constructed inside her head.

She could feel Snape's mind sliding along the barrier on the very edge of her thoughts, and resisted the instinctual urge to push him from her mind entirely, as she had on the night of the feast. He found every flaw in her shield that she had built into it, every crack and thin place where a solid mental push would bring it crumbling down. When he had found them all, he pushed on all of them at once, and Arya fought to remain calm as it shattered into nothing; he was now in her Liar's Palace, and she could feel his presence, - picking and prying at her thoughts and emotions, cold and wrapped up in his own shields that would prevent a counter strike. She didn't attempt to block him, or to try an attack of her own; she hadn't been trained in Legilemency, and yet she thought she might be able to do it… It was the other side of the coin to Occlumency, and she couldn't help but learn one from studying the other.

She pushed that thought to where Snape wouldn't find it, and concentrated on which memories he was rooting through. He had started at the most distant of her re-imagined memories, and Arya found herself looking at a scene at the Dursley's that had never happened, as if she were standing beside Snape and looking in.

The scene showed a younger Arya, lounging against a bed reading a magazine that she had swiped from her aunt, red hair and freckles shining in the lamplight. It was dark outside the bedroom windows, and her aunt eventually came to the door. "Time for bed, Arya. Turn out the light now, we have big plans for your birthday tomorrow." The little girl smiled at her aunt, and turned out the light, tossing the magazine with the celebrites onto the bedside table.

The scene was swept away as fast as it had come, and they flited through her false past, jumping from year to year in unpredictable leaps. When Snape had decided he'd seen enough, there was another _shift_ in his searching, and Arya knew he was seeking the divider between her Liars Palace and her real mind; she reached out tentatively, and guided him to the barrier between her selves.

This barrier was nothing like the first one; if someone found this in her mind, all attempts at appearing weak and unskilled had failed, and her last defense was truly all that she could do. Snape pressed against it as he had the first one, sliding along the surface to feel for weakness and flaws; he continued on in that manner for a long time.

At last, she heard him speak as if from very far away, not communicating mind to mind as Dumbledore had done with her, but speaking from his physical body across the desk from her.

"It is possible that I could break this, given enough time, but a breaching of this caliber could leave your mind weak and vulnerable for weeks to come, if you avoided long term damage. The Dark Lord would not hesitate to break your mind, but we'll not risk damage that we don't need to; create an opening for me." Arya hesitated. "It is necessary, girl, and the headmaster has instructed me to view only what you lead me to in your true mind. I suggest that we view the legitimate versions of the false memories I looked into."

Arya steadied her breathing into the calm pattern that Dumbledore had taught her, and forced her shield to open enough to let Snape through, and brought them both to her distant memories. They were with her younger self at the Dursleys again, but the scene was very different; a young girl was illuminated by lamplight, her red hair limp and tangled, skin ghostly pale and limps dangerously thin. She was sitting on a small cot, the shape of the underside of a staircase over her head, walls tight around her and a spider dangling from a web over her feet. She was more afraid of the walls than of the spider. There was a ragged towel stuffed into the door crack to stop the light from spilling out, and she was clutching a thick book in her hands, the title 'The Belgariad' visible as she closed it to slide silently off her cot and press her ear to the key hole.

All was silent, save for the loud grumbling of her stomach; the Dursley's had kept her in her cupboard since that morning, letting her out for water and the bathroom twice. Dudley had kept shoving her down in the hallway that morning, pushing her back down over and over again, until she'd finally gotten angry enough to shove him back; she was so light and skinny that she'd barely been able to even shift his weight a hair, but that hadn't stopped him from running crying to his daddy.

She stayed still, listening for several minutes to be sure they'd all gone to bed, and then stowed her book under the cot pad with the others, removed the towel, and used a hair pin to pick the lock on her door. She padded on silent feet to the kitchen, and gulped a glass of water before opening the fridge. There were leftovers from their dinner that night, and Arya thought she might drool as she looked for something else; they would notice if that was diminished in the morning. There was a fruit salad in the back that was a few days old, since neither Dudley or her uncle would touch it, and she ate a few bites of that before putting it back. The trick of not getting caught was to never take too much from any container. Two slices of cheese between a slice of bread, and an old banana later, and she was creeping back to her cupboard, her stomach still growling with hunger, but the stabbing hunger pains gone.

The next morning, Aunt Petunia paused as she opened the fruit salad container, beady eyes noting the slight indentation of missing fruit. Arya felt her heart stick in her throat as she served her uncle tea, but her Aunt didn't say anything. The memory faded.

She showed a few more from the Dursley's, and the day she finally left them forever. The rest were random scenes from life at Remus's cottage, and painted a stark contrast to the life she had displayed in her Liar's Palace.

True to his word, Snape let her guide them through, and she finished as quick as she could, opening the barrier again and practically shoving him through when they were done. He retreated the rest of the way on his own, and she opened her eyes to a vile headache, just as she'd suspected she would.

Snape's face was as emotionless as usual, but she thought the look in his eyes was slightly uneasy as he stared at her in silence for a few moments.

He finally spoke, "Our next lesson will be at the same time next week. You may go."

She nodded respectfully, and stood up stiffly to begin the climb to Gryffindor tower, only realizing as she climbed through the portrait hole twenty minutes later that she hadn't spoken a word the entire lesson.

* * *

Snape watched the girl leave, and sat still in his seat for several minutes after she was gone. When he stood, he did so suddenly, striding from the dungeons with robes billowing out behind him, and heading directly to the headmaster's office. He didn't bother to knock when the spiraling staircase stopped in front of the door, - Dumbledore would already know he was coming, even though he hadn't scheduled a meeting.

The old man was infuriating like that.

"Severus, I trust the lesson went well?" Dumbledore asked, seated behind his large desk, phoenix perched nearby.

"Well enough that I'm left wondering what it is that you intend me to teach her, Albus." Snape paused. "And left wondering the wisdom of teaching a child the manipulative skills that all your old age and experience has taught you."

Dumbledore raised a delicate eyebrow, surveying him over his lightly clasped hands.

"The girl is terrified of enclosed spaces, Albus. Stuck in a cupboard since she was a year old, who wouldn't be? But she isn't scared in classes in the dungeons, Albus, - care to tell me how that's possible?"

Dumbledore rocked back in his seat slightly, brows now furrowed. "Tell me, Severus. And please, have a seat."

Snape sighed, anger draining out of him as he sank into the seat across from the old professor. "She's scared of closed in spaces, but the self she built in her Liar's Palace isn't. She took a trait that was a lie, and forced it to be real; the intent of the Liar's Palace is to fool an invader in your mind, but she has taken it and used it to fool herself. She did it intentionally, so that she wouldn't be afraid."

"Ah. I can see why you are concerned… I did not see that possibility."

"No one has, Albus, because no one has done it before! If she can use that aspect of it, what else can she do? Have you considered the possibility that she could sink into the lie entirely?"

"I can imagine how that could be very useful, Severus." Snape almost snapped back at him, anger rising again, but Dumbledore continued before he could speak. "And yes, I now see the danger. You devised this method yourself, Severus, and I suspect that you can find a way to prevent what you have described." Dumbledore looked at him keenly, and Snape nodded reluctantly, considering the possibilities. "What do you think of her? I confess, when I first met her I was disturbed by the resemblance to another student from my past… Clever, and ambitious with a general disregard for authority."

Snape twitched, as if shaking off an irksome fly. "The Dark Lord never felt sympathy, or empathy, or righteous anger. She has some of his most valued traits, true, but all the things that the Dark Lord never had as well; naivety, for a start."

"Some do not call that naivety, Severus, but innocence."

Snape wasn't sure that there was a difference. "I fail to see how a child could live through what she has with her relatives and still be innocent, Albus."

Dumbledore smiled his infuriatingly understanding smile at him. "The answer is love, Severus. Perhaps you will learn something from her during your lessons as well."

Snape glared his best Deatheater glare at him, but he remained un-perturbed.

"You will keep an eye on Quirrell for me, won't you? He's been skulking around the third floor recently, and I still haven't ascertained how Voldemort is communicating with him."

"I thought the whole point was to get him to try for the stone?"

"Yes, yes, but not until I get the mirror in place. A premature attempt wouldn't do any good, and if he gets injured by Fluffy he may give himself away to others. The evil I know about is preferable to the evil I don't. It would be unfortunate for Voldemort to find a new pawn while we can watch this one so well."

"I suppose I'm to find time to teach as well, between playing watch dog for both the girl and Quirrell?"

Dumbledore pretended he couldn't hear the acid dripping from his voice, and ignored the rhetorical question, instead offering him a lemon drop from the bowl on his desk.

"The girl's name is Arya, Severus. It does not do to avoid naming that which we fear."


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N. Posting from my moms farm in WI! Watching the hummingbirds at the feeders and being thankful that my mom didn't ask me to help chase the cows back into the pasture. It's a beautiful place to write, so I hope you like this chapter.**

**Thank you for all the reviews and feedback, I might write more in the next few days!**

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Chapter 44

September turned into October, bringing brisk winds that swept off the mountains and over the Hogwarts grounds, causing students to wrap their scarves tighter, and walk quickly in huddled groups to and from the castle. The whomping willow, the violent tree that hid a passage to Hogsmead, dropped all its leaves at once, and the crown of the forbidden forest transformed into a brilliant orange and red blaze of color.

Arya took several weeks to adjust to her schedule of regular classes, plus her occlumency lessons every Friday evening in the cold dungeons with the ever looming proffessor Snape, and her quidditch practices on top of everything else. Oliver Wood led his team with fanatical zeal, and Arya soon discovered that she couldn't keep going as intended; her morning runs combined with rigorous quidditch training turned her into a listless lump by the end of the day, and on a Wednesday in early October, she would have slept through her midnight astronomy lessen if Hermione hadn't dragged her fully clothed out of bed and up the tallest tower, where she promptly fell asleep with her eyes still pressed against the telescope. She reluctantly decided to forgo her morning run on the days that coencided with quidditch practice, figuring that lapps around the field and endless drills through the air under Wood's critical eyes was quite enough exercise to be getting on with.

Hermione was still surprised sometimes to find herself surrounded by friends; she was no longer the solitary bookworm that had crept through the halls of her old schools, weighed down by her heavy stack of books and the heavier secret of her magical outbursts. She didn't eat alone, or study alone, or sit alone in classes; in fact she sometimes felt so surrounded by people that she'd flee to the library or out to the courtyard to be alone, knowing that Arya would pop up eventually with Ron and Neville in tow. Her friend had an uncanny ability to find people, due to an old and faded map with astonishing magical properties. Hermione suspected that Arya used it to break all kinds of rules without being caught, but she found herself less and less inclined to scold her for her rule breaking, as long as she was subtle about it in front of Hermione.

Classes were becoming more interesting as they progressed to more wand work, though Arya persisted in her habit of reading library books under her desk in class, which had horrified Hermione until she realized that her friend wasn't being lazy, and was often reading ahead in the subject.

Ron was continously surprised to find that he was doing well in classes, though he unfailingly had to be badgered into studying, and occasionly became prickly and offended when Hermione attempted to help him during classes. She tried to imitate Arya's gentler way of suggesting instead of dictating, but it was frustrating that he interpreted every offer of help as an insult to his intelligence.

Neville struggled in potions, daunted by Snape and prone to skipping steps in the brewing process; Snape had not descended on him since Arya's outburst at the beginning of term, but the fact that Neville was terrified of him was hard to dispute. Arya had attempted to question him about it, because she was convinced that it went beyond the fact that Snape happened to look like an oversized bat and kept pickled animals in jars around the classroom, though that may have been reason enough. Neville avoided answering her, and began to avoid her if she persisted too long; Arya eventually gave up, realizing that Neville would tell her when he was ready and not before.

The morning of Halloween dawned bight and cold, frost outlining the amazingly large pumpkins that Hagrid had been growing beside his cabin, and painting the grass on the lawn a sparkling white until the sun crept over the trees to melt the ice crystals. Hermione was awoken by the sound of Arya returning from her morning run, as had become part of the normal routine, and rolled out of bed to shower.

Arya was a bit quieter than normal, and Hermione was dressed and ready to head down for breakfast before she remembered why; today was the anniversary of Arya's parents deaths, a full ten years ago. She wanted to say something to comfort her, but didn't know how. She didn't have Arya's way with people, and the most she could think to do was to throw an arm around her shoulders in a brief and un-accustomary hug. Arya seemed to understand her intention, and gave her a reassuring smile as they headed down to breakfast together, identical book bags slung across their shoulders; Arya had given one to Hermione on her birthday, filled with several books and more than a few bottles the magic hair potion that had managed to tame Hermione's bushy mass of hair. The light weight bag held as many books as a library, and had quickly become one of Hermione's most treasured possessions, and not just because it was the first birthday gift that a friend had ever given her.

Halloween had fallen on a Thursday this year, and all the Gryffindor first years were rather tired due to their midnight Astronomy lesson during the night. Ron arrived late because he'd over slept, and was rather dour during breakfast, though Arya perked up a bit after eating an entire platter of eggs and sausages by herself, unable to remain quiet and sad for very long. The first class of the day was charms, and there was an excited buz among the students as they took there seats, because Professor Flitwick had promised them that they could practice hovering charms for the first time that day, and making objects fly was considered much more exciting than anything else they'd been allowed to attempt.

Hermione shot a guilty look at Arya, because they had gone against the professors orders and tried the spell outside of class weeks ago, both mastering it in one try. Arya had managed to convince her that bending the rules for the sake of learning wasn't the same as breaking them out-right, but it still made Hermione squirm.

Hermione paired with Ron for the lesson, and she could tell from the start that it was not going to be a good time; Ron was tired and hadn't been able to eat as much as he'd have liked at breakfast before they'd had to leave for class, and the combination made him downright unpleasant to work with. He grew more frustrated as he failed to levitate the feather they'd been given, and Hermione made a valiant effort to not roll her eyes as he windmilled his long arms and butchered the pronunciation. Remembering that he was touchy about being corrected, she gently began to suggest improvements for the motion and incantation, being careful to not sound bossy.

Ron glowered, pouted, and eventually snarled at her, jabbing at the feather in vain, not even bothering with the swish and flick movement as his temper deteriated, and Hermione felt her own temper rising. She was making every effort to be kind, and he wasn't even bothering to listen to her advice, but still seemed to blame her when he failed. She performed the spell flawlessly when Flitwick came around, and Ron glared at her even more.

"Honestly, Ron, are you even trying? The chapter outlined everything, and I've shown you a hundred times; Wing-GAr-di-um Le-vi-O-sa, and swish an flick, not windmill!" She was tired of tip-toeing around to save his delicate ego, and tired of taking the blame when he felt like venting his anger at her.

"Just because you can do everything without trying doesn't mean everyone can! If you weren't such a bossy know it all, maybe you'd see that!"

"You think I don't have to try?" Hermione exclaimed, her voice reaching an octave higher an becoming a bit shrill. "I study all the time! I work hard and I pay attention, it's not my fault that you don't listen, and its not my fault that you don't bother to read the material unless I shove the book under your nose!"

"Well, sorry if I don't want to be some boring goody two shoes with my nose in a book all the time!"

Hermione wasn't sure if she was going to burst into tears or hit him in the face, and the bell signaling the end of class prevented them from finding out. She leapt up from her seat, and felt such a surge of anger and hurt and frustration that she was reminded painfully of every outburst she'd had in school over the years that had sent her magic in an uncontrolled force out of her body; years of training herself to run away and avoid detection took over, and she bolted from the room as Arya attempted to call her back.

In her anger and panic, habit took over, and she made a bee-line for the lavatory. At her old school, the bathroom was usually a safe bet for avoiding her tormentors, and any magic that leaked from her went unseen; she forgot that she didn't need to avoid detection, and overlooked the fact that she'd had no accidental magic happen since she'd bought her wand.

By the time she calmed down and came to her senses, she was safely away from the other students, locked in a stall in the lavatory. The feeling of uncontrolled anger faded, but she still felt angry tears burn her eyes, and she sat on the floor of the stall and put her head between her knees.

The names Ron had caller her were very familiar, though she hadn't heard them since her last term had ended; bossy know it all, boring, and goody-two-shoes had been the favorite phrases of her most persistent tormentors. She had thought that was behind her now, but apparently she'd been wrong.

* * *

Arya called after Hermione as the other girl fled from the classroom, eyes bright with tears and fists clenched in anger, but she was ignored, and Hermione vanished down the hall as Arya was stuck behind the mass of students clambering to leave the room. She spun on Ron instead, who had a mulish look on his face; she didn't say anything, but bent to pick up Hermione's abandoned book bag, and swung it so that it whomped Ron in the middle. It had enough weight to knock his breath out, and she let go of the handle as he grabbed it, forcing him to carry it to the next class for Hermione, looking extremely irritated.

Neville looked uncomfortable, but they'd heard everything going on at the table next to them, and he joined Arya when she sat further down the bench from Ron in the next class, and refused to speak to him at all.

Hermione didn't show up at all, and Ron was beginning to at least look uncomfortable. Every time he looked over to Arya, she met him with a cold eyed glare, and slightly raised eyebrows; it was a very condemning look, and she was satisfied to see that it made him squirm in his seat.

Hermione wasn't at lunch either, and now Ron was looking distinctly awkward and guilty, casting looks around the hall to see if she would re-appear and avoiding looking at Arya at all, which was hard because she had sat down directly across from him. She still refused to say a word, but every time he looked up across his plate her eyebrows had crept a little higher up her forehead, and her eyes were blazing more furiously.

She wasn't in the library either, and Arya never stopped glaring at him through the entire study session, making him twitch nervously and the hair stand up on the back of his neck. She wasn't in the common room, or the girls dormitory when he asked someone to check for him. He finally turned to face Arya as they left for the feast, unable to stand the silent glaring and guilt any longer.

"I, er, suppose I better go find her."

Arya's eyebrows almost disappeared in her hair line, and she widened her eyes as if to say, _Nooo_, you don't think?

"Right. And apologize." He added, "Can you find her on the map?"

"She'll be in the nearest lavatory to the charms classroom." Arya said in a voice friendly enough that no one who hadn't witnessed it would believe she'd spent the entire day glaring holes in the back of his head.

* * *

Ron sighed in relief now that Arya was acting like a human being again, and headed off to the lavatory in search of Hermione. He was outside the door before he realized the problem with his plan; she was, of course, in the girls lavatory. Ron stood awkwardly outside the door for several minutes, casting nervous glances around to see if anyone was looking, and hoping beyond hope that no one besides Hermione was inside. He cast a final look behind him before sticking his head through the door, half expecting to see a bunch of girls gathered inside to shriek at him for intruding, but at first glance the room was empty. The stalls along the wall were open and deserted, except for the last one, and Ron cautiously let the door close behind him as he made his way to it, suddenly tongue tied now that he had found her.

If it even was her.

"Er, Hermione? Are you in there?" He knocked on the stall door, and though there was no answer, he thought he heard someone move on the other side, and, feeling like a perv, he ducked down to peer under the door. She was sitting on the floor with her back to the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest and a large pile of tissues next to her. She looked at him with accusing and red rimmed eyes, and it was obvious that she'd spent the entire day in there crying. He felt another stab of guilt, but all he managed was a feeble, "hey".

She sniffed, and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. She looked exhausted.

"Hey." She said quietly, her voice scratchy.

"Can you let me in? I've got your bag." She looked like she might refuse for a moment, but eventually reached up and unlocked the door, and Ron entered the cramped stall, placed the bag by her feet, and sat down next to her on the grimy floor. It was silent for a few minutes while Ron tried to formulate an apology. He'd never been very good at them, as his sister would readily attest to.

"Sorry I was such a prat this morning." He finally said. "And, you know, before that too, I suppose. I don't think you're boring, you know."

"Just a bossy know it all goody two shoes?" She didn't sound accusing, and even managed a half smile.

"No! Well, I mean... You can be kind of bossy, and you're definitely a know it all, but thats not a bad thing!" Ron wanted to hit his head on the wall; he'd come to apologize, and he was just insulting her all over again. He tried again. "I think it's awesome that you're brilliant, you and Arya both. It's just that she's famous and you're both smart, and I'm not a buffoon, but I'm not like you either. I know I can be a prat, but it's just so frustrating; even if I try my hardest, I'm only half as good as you."

"Oh Ron..." Hermione sighed. "I know that has to be frustrating, and with such a large family too, but this isn't a competition. You can't keep taking it out on us when you get frustrated; we're your friends and we want to help you!"

"I know, I just... I don't want to need help."

"Most of the time you don't, Ron. It's only when you get in a mood that you mess up. It's as if you convince yourself that you'll fail no matter what, so failing isn't your fault. You self defeat before you even get started."

Ron groaned in frustration, leaning his head back against the wall. "It's just... Bill was the perfect student, Charlie could've played quidditch professionally if he'd wanted to, Percy gets top marks in everything, Fred and George are popular and quidditch stars, and even if I'm everything that they are it won't matter, because they've already done it first. I'm not as smart as Bill and Percy, I don't have an amazing quidditch talent, and I'm not particularly funny. I'm just average at everything."

"But you are good at classes when you put in the effort, and you are really funny, and Arya says you're great at quidditch! Comparing yourself to everyone else isn't healthy. If I compared myself to Arya all the time I'd go mad. But I'm not trying to one up her, I don't study to be as good as her, I study because I want to be as good as I can be. You have to do things for yourself, not to impress us or your parents or anyone, and you have got to stop lashing out at me!"

"You're right. Next time I start like that again, just hit me with a book or something. Arya knocked the wind right out of me after you left, you know. And my sister Ginny has a mean right hook, you two will probably get along great next year."

Hermione snorted.

"I'll try to be better, okay? I'm sorry about what I said, and the way I treated you that entire class. Friends?"

Hermione smiled tiredly. "Friends." She relaxed a bit, and pulled her bag onto her lap to have something to hold onto. "I never had friends before Hogwarts, did Arya tell you?" Ron shook his head. "I liked following the rules, and I liked getting good grades, and I never found anyone interested in the same things as me. No one associated with me for fear of being lumped into the same category. They called me all the things you did, and worse besides, but none of them ever cared enough to apologize. You, Neville, and Arya are the best friends I've ever had."

Ron felt angry that people had treated her badly before, and ashamed that he'd said the same things that they had. She was probably a hundred times better than any of her old classmates, and he for the first time felt proud that people as good and smart as Hermione, Arya and Neville considered him a friend. None of them would be friends with him for no reason; they must see him as being worth their time to be friends with. The new thought felt like an epiphany, and he felt a little of his insecurity drain away, a pocket of perpetual unease in his stomach fading.

His new good feelings were interrupted by the arrival of a fully grown mountain troll squeezing through the doorway, giant ugly head sniffing the air and one massive hand dragging a club the size of a tree behind him.

* * *

Neville and Arya were able to enjoy a full ten minutes of the Halloween feast, complete with pumpkins the sizes of small houses and swarms of live bats flying over their heads, before Quirrell made a dramatic entrance, running through the aisle between the house tables, gasping for breath and screaming that there was a troll in the dungeons. Arya raised her eyebrows in surprise as the student body at large errupted in panic, and saw Quirrell go down in a dead faint, ridiculous purple turban askew. Some of the more flighty students had jumped to their feet as if to run away, and several people were screaming. Neville looked scared, but kept his head, and Arya rolled her eyes at the bat filled sky; did anyone really think a dumb troll stood a chance against Albus Dumbledore and the full Hogwarts staff?

Though to be fair, it had been to much for their defense teacher to handle... Arya glanced at where Quirrell had gone down, but he was no longer there, and she didn't see a sign of his purple turban among the panic ridden and milling students.

Dumbledore released several deafening bangs from his wand, and took control of the situation with ease, delegating the task of leading students to the safety of the common rooms to the prefects, and forming a search party comprised of staff to search the dungeons. Arya saw Snape searching the hall with his eyes, and as Percy pompously ordered everyone into line, she saw Snape brake off from the other teachers and head in a different direction. There was still no sign of the feeble defense professor.

Arya and Neville followed Percy out of the Great Hall, but Arya stopped dead in her tracks as they made their way toward the common room, and then pulled Neville with her out of the line. "Ron and Hermione don't know about the troll! We have to go get them in case its wandered out of the dungeons already!"

Neville blanched at the thought, but nodded with determination, and the two of them rushed against the flow of Gryffindors fleeing the hall, heading toward the charms corridor without bothering to sneak. If the troll was in the dungeons, they should have enough time to grab Ron and Hermione and run back to the common room with the others. Arya cast about, looking for a teacher to help them, but they only came across Snape rushing in the opposite direction. He was striding with such single minded purpose that he didn't see them, and when Arya raised her arm to attempt to hail him for aid, Neville dragged her arm back down again and shook his head emphatically. It was an un-charictaristic display of force from him, and Snape disappeared around a corner before Arya got over her surprise enough to shout after him.

Arya wondered for the hundredth time at the depth of Nevilles fear and hatred of the man; he was more terrified of asking Snape for help than he was of the possibility of running into a mountain troll. Arya shook her head at him in frustration, but there was not time to dwell on it, and soon they were running down the charms corridor to the girls bathroom.

Arya's heart jumped in her chest as they approached, because the smell of rotten sewage and the sound of bangs and shrieks coming from the lavatory indicated that either Ron had really mucked up his apology, or that the troll had indeed left the dungeons.

There was a resounding crash from within the room, and as Arya and Neville ran full speed toward the lavatory, Ron and Hermione emerged from the door running full speed away from it. They were both covered in dust and splinters of wood and looked absolutely terrified, and Arya could see the cause of their fear emerging from behind them, hefting an enormous club and looking furious that his prey were escaping. Most people were fortunate enough to go their entire lives without ever seeing a fully grown mountain troll charge, but Arya, Neville, Ron, and Hermione had no such luck.

Arya had drawn her wand and was releasing deafening bangs and sparks from the end of it in an attempt at confusing the enraged troll, aware that most spells she knew wouldn't be enough to penetrate the trolls thick hide. The troll slowed down for a few moments, head swinging about as it searched dumbly for the source of the sounds and lights, but it continued forward with staggering steps.

Ron and Hermione reached them, and Arya and Neville turned to run with them as fast as they could, but the trolls legs were as tall as they were, and it was shaking the castle with each heavy foot as it gained on them. Arya turned and hit it with a precisely aimed stinging hex to its right eye. It howled with rage and pain, and brandished wildly with its club, blind in one eye. Arya attempted to hit its left eye with the next stinging hex, but the troll was moving erratically in its pain and confusion, and she missed by a wide margin.

Ron skidded to a halt beside her, raised his wand and bellowed 'Wingardium Leviosa!' as loud as he could, brandishing his long arm in a perfect swish and flick motion. Arya had time to wonder why he thought attempting to levitate the troll was a good defense, before she saw the giant club rise into the air instead, and crash down onto the trolls head with a sickening crunch as Ron lowered his wand in a sweeping motion. The troll teetered slowly in place, its good eye rolling up toward the ceiling, and then it fell face first to the floor, rattling the windows and causing the whole corridor to shudder. Arya thought she could see a slight indent in the skull of the trull where the club had made contact, and its absolute stillness assured her that it wasn't about to spring back up to attack them again.

The four of them stood together over the motionless body of the troll for several long seconds before any of them were able to move. Hermione was the first to make a sound, a slight whimper that was halfway between a terrified squeek and a sound of relief. She sank down against the nearest wall, knees too shaky to stand on, and Neville shook out of his daze to sit down next to her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. Ron was still standing with his wand partially raised, staring at what he had done in awe. Arya clapped him on the back and he started, lowering his wand and looking at her with wide eyes. There was a line of blood dripping down his temple from where shrapnel from a splintered stall had grazed his head, and he still looked like he was in shock.

The sound of hurried footsteps reached them, and they turned to see Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell running toward them, drawn by the sounds of their fight with the troll. McGonagall gasped at the sight of the fallen troll and disheveled students, and Quirrel looked close to fainting again. Snape looked furiously at her before stooping to make sure the troll was unconsious.

"What in Merlins name is going on?" Snapped McGonagall, concealing her fear in anger, her mouth drawn to a thin line. "Why aren't you in your dormitories?"

Hermione answered before Arya could open her mouth.

"Please, Professor, they were coming to get me and Ron." She struggled to her feet, and Ron moved over to join her, taking over the explanation.

"It's my fault, Professor. We weren't at the feast because I was such a prat to her this morning; I went to go apologize instead of going to the feast, and then this massive troll came into the bathroom... We barely managed to get away."

McGonagalls nostrils flared, but she couldn't fault their explanation. She turned her eyes to Arya and Neville instead. "And you two?"

"We were on our way up to the common room when I remembered that Ron and Hermione wouldn't have gotten the warning, so we decided to run and get them to come up with us in case the troll left the dungeon. I'm glad we did, too, because it was charging after them down the corridor when we got here." McGonagal took a shuddering breath, and Arya anticipated her next question. "We would've gotten a teacher, but there weren't any around, and we didn't have time to find anyone."

She intentionally didn't look at Neville, and hoped that Snape wouldn't read the lie in his eyes. She didn't know what was between her friend and the potions master, but she was sure it wasn't anything good. "Ron knocked it out with it's own club seconds before you arrived, professor."

Professor McGonagall softened slightly, unable to fault their logic. "Very well. It is exceedingly fortunate that none of you were killed, not many wizards and witches have faced down angry trolls and gotten away as clean as you four. Ten points each to Miss Potter and Mr. Longbottom, for showing bravery for the sake of your friends. Twenty points to Mr. Weasley, for thinking to use its own weapon against it. Miss Granger, you and Mr. Weasley please check into the hospital wing and ask madame Pomfrey to look over your wounds."

Hermione nodded, looking grateful that none of them were in trouble, and she and Ron made their way down the corridor toward the hospital wing. Arya was looking intently at Snape, who's hair was in disarray and whose robes had a long tear from the knee to the hem. When he stepped away from the troll, he left a footprint outlined in blood, barely visible against the dark stone of the castle floor. McGonagall appeared uninjured, but there was a bruise forming on Quirrell's face, and he was fussing with his turban, which had begun to unwind from his head.

Since the troll had been here attacking them, how had Snape and Quirrel been hurt? For that matter, how had a troll, which were notoriously stupid, been able to enter the Hogwarts castle in the first place? These were the questions that Arya and Neville pondered as they made their way to the Gryffindor common room, where they were distracted for the time being by the feast that had been transferred up so that students could finish eating. Arya and Neville saved a plate for Ron and Hermione, who joined them half an hour later, with their wounds fully healed.

Neville never explained his actions regarding Snape, and Arya, though keenly curious, didn't ask.


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N. Sorry for the long delay, but I'm getting married this weekend, and the planning has pretty much consumed my life. After that is two weeks of honeymoon vacation, so don't expect any updates until the first week of October. **

**Here's a little interlude chapter to hold you over! **

**Thank you for all the reviews, I enjoy all your feedback and encouragement, as always. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

Chapter 45

November 1st

Ginny Weasley spent the entire first week of September mopping around the Burrow and feeling utterly dejected. She had alternated between crying, pouting, and periods of listlessness in which she did nothing at all.

During her hours of lying around that first week, the absolute stillness of her home struck her; the burrow had never been so _quiet_. With all her brothers gone, and her father away at work during the day, the only residents of the house were Ginny, her mother, and the ghoul in the attic. If the unnatural stillness lasted too long, either the ghoul or Molly would be obliged to break it somehow – Molly by turning up the wizarding wireless to extreme volumes, and the ghoul by banging against the pipes.

Ginny wasn't sure which was worse, - the ghoul smashing his head repeatedly against the plumbing, or Celestina Warbeck's off key shrieking from the radio.

If the ghoul was asleep, and Molly out tending the yard, Ginny would let the silence drag on, at first because she was too desolate to do anything else, but eventually because she found that it was actually peaceful. She was undeniably lonely, but after a lifetime of noise and commotion, she began to appreciate a bit of quite.

Ginny was simply not meant for sulking, and by the end of the first week of Hogwarts term she was back to her normal self, helping her mom with household chores, completing her morning runs alone, and sneaking out at night to fly.

Unlike most of her brothers, she didn't hate the simple work that her mother often enlisted her help with. Gardening was a good excuse to be outside, and cooking meant delicious food afterward, which made it worth it. Spending uninterrupted time with her mom was actually nice; Molly usually had a rather harassed looking expression, with seven children to look after, but with most of them off to school she was calmer and more relaxed to be around, though it was obvious that she missed her sons.

Besides Percy, who wrote home once a week like it was a homework assignment, attempting to squeeze letters out of the others was an exercise in futility. Despite their promises, no Hogwarts toilet seat arrived for Ginny from the twins, and besides a hurried scrawl from Ron that Ginny suspected Arya had forced him to write, her closest brother had ceased to contact her at all. Ginny wasn't terribly surprised by this, but that wouldn't stop her from giving him a good punch when he got home for Christmas break.

Ceridwen was a frequent visitor at Ginny's window, her snow white feathers gleaming in the early morning light, and her talons clutching satisfyingly long letters from Arya.

Arya's letters made Ginny happy, envious, jealous, and excited all at once. She was unfailingly happy to hear from her best friend, and loved hearing all about Hogwarts and classes. She was bursting with anticipation for the day she'd board the Hogwarts express herself, and couldn't help the envy she felt of her friend's adventures. She always shoved the feelings aside, not wanting Arya to feel bad for her or to feel guilty for something that couldn't be helped. She also had to increasingly stomp down on her growing jealousy of Hermione Granger, the supposedly brilliant friend that Arya had met on the train, and now shared a dorm with. It seemed that Arya had met as close to an intellectual equal as she could get, and a gnawing worry grew in Ginny's stomach that she was going to be replaced and forgotten, despite all the letters that proved to the contrary.

Hermione featured in all the adventures that Arya wrote about, along with Ron and Neville, and Ginny knew that her jealousy of one instead of all the others was irrational. Ginny knew and was friends with her brother and Neville, but had never met this knew girl, and wasn't sure how they'd get on together. Part of her wanted to dislike her out of spite, but she couldn't quite manage it; Arya's letters were so detailed and interesting that she was beginning to feel as if she knew this Hermione Granger already. Did Arya ever talk to Hermione about her, as well?

Arya's letter detailing the debacle that was the Halloween feast arrived in the pre-dawn light of the first day of November, while Ginny was still asleep. She'd taken to leaving the window cracked for the snowy owl, even though the weather was getting quite cold, frost creeping along the inside of the glass panes where she left it open.

The cool breeze brushing her face and Ceridwen nibbling on her fingers was enough to wake her, and she sat up slowly, petting the owl on the side of the head where she liked it. The owl cooed affectionately, and then held out her leg for Ginny to take the thick roll of parchment she was carrying. The beautiful owl always wanted Ginny to pet her for a while before giving up the post.

Ginny extracted her uncle's wand from under her pillow, and sat with her back against the wall to read the letter using the wand for illumination, blankets pulled up on her lap, and the chilly breeze blowing strands of red hair across her face. Arya's letters were always full of exciting things, or possibly boring things that Arya made seem interesting, but a fight with a mountain troll topped them all. Ginny got the blow-by-blow account of the entire events leading up to the fight, and it felt almost as if she was there herself, scowling at Ron for being a prat, and cheering them on as they fought the troll and won house points.

She knew that it had probably been horribly frightening and terrible to experience, but oh how she wished she had been there with them. She lingered on the description of Quirrell and Snape's disheveled appearances, picking up on the ominous feeling that more was going on than she was being told. Arya kept hinting that there were things she didn't want to put into writing, and asking if Ginny had worked on her meditation at all. She seemed to be implying that Ginny should really try learning the basics of occlumency, and that implied that she had some rather serious things on her mind.

Ginny had resisted learning occlumency because she had made no progress after the first initial attempts, and because she hadn't thought that there was much cause to learn it. She was beginning to reevaluate her opinion, considering that her lack of ability was preventing Arya from being able to confide in her. Who did Arya know who she could completely confide in? Sirius and the others were one thing, but it wasn't the same as having a friend her own age that she could trust completely, and as Ginny's eyes lingered over the parchment, she grew determined to master the annoyingly boring practice of meditation.

She was going to practice all throughout the school year, and by next summer she was going to be able to tell Arya that she was ready to learn occlumency.

Besides, she thought as she got dressed for her morning run, the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon, she was never going to experience a quieter time in her life to master the art of making her mind clear and quiet.

Next year she would be off to Hogwarts with all her friends and brothers, taking part in all the chaos and adventures that magic had to offer.

She grinned to herself as she made for the door, stopping long enough to offer Ceridwen a bowl of water and a pat on the head as the owl tucked her head under one snowy wing, settling down on the old wooden perch that Molly had dragged out of storage for her to use.

Next year, she was determined she wasn't going to miss out on anything, no matter how dangerous it was.


	46. Chapter 46

**A/N. I'm back! Thank you all so much for the well wishes, the wedding and honeymoon were absolutely amazing! **

**We should be back to frequent updates now, though this chapter might be a little rough from lack of practice, it was hard to get back into the swing of things. **

**Thank you for all your patience, remember to leave a review!**

Chapter 46

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November began with a sudden drop in temperature and a sudden increase in Arya's workload, due to the start of quidditch season and the subsequent surprise practices that Wood was prone to arranging on the spur of the moment. Arya tried her best to convince Fred and George to use Wood as a test subject for one of their many odd inventions, but unfortunately for her, the twins valued quidditch more than homework, and Wood's manic enthusiasm was left to run unchecked.

Added to her busy life of school work, quidditch, occlemency studies, voracious reading habits, and the occasional out of bounds exploration with her friends, began a definite and disturbing sensation of being watched. She attempted to ignore the creeping sensation, but realized she'd failed to put it out of her mind when Ron asked why she had developed a twitch; she was glancing over her shoulder so often she was gaining a resemblance to Mad-eye Moody. She wondered for a while if Sirius, disturbed by the troll incident, had sent Kreacher to monitor her, but when she asked him through the mirror, his look of genuine confusion put that idea to rest.

Being famous didn't aid her in ruling out culprits, as she tended to draw stares where ever she went, so anyone paying her undue attention wasn't a stand out. Hermione gave her a look like she thought her workload was getting to her when Arya brought up her recently developed paranoia, and Ron didn't offer much besides the suggestion that perhaps she had picked up an overly admiring fan somewhere. Neville looked troubled at the rare times she mentioned it, but didn't add his own speculation to the conversation; Arya resisted the urge on a daily basis to attempt reaching out with legilemancy and plucking his stubbornly secret thoughts out of his head.

The ethics of legilemancy hadn't been discussed much during her lessons with Dumbledore or Snape, since her focus was almost entirely on Occlumency, but she knew beyond a doubt that attempting to read Neville's thoughts would be a gross violation of his privacy.

Her brilliant idea of using the Marauders Map to track down her possibly imaginary watcher was disappointingly in-effective. The feeling haunted her most during periods in-between classes when she was in the corridors, or on weekends in the library or on the grounds. The map showed everyone in the school, and there were _a lot_ of people. Since the feeling faded in the common room, she ruled out any fellow Gryffindors, and took to the habit of scanning the map feverishly in the minutes between classes, glancing for any name among the mass of dots that seemed out of place. No one stood out.

By the morning of the first Saturday in November, when the Gryffindor vs Slytherin match was to take place, Arya was beginning to suspect that she'd been making everything up. Perhaps Hermione was right, and somewhere along the way of intense studies well outside her grade level, mind lessons beyond her age, training for Quidditch, and pondering over the mystery that was the philosopher's stone, she'd somehow lost her head. Arya got out of bed early, the soft snores of her dorm-mates still sounding gently from their four-poster beds and the faint light of dawn beginning to fill the room from the drafty tower windows. She stretched tired muscles, dressed in comfy sweats, and set out with her broomstick that Sirius had sent her from home when she'd made the team. Wizards didn't seem to value pre-game warm ups, but games could last for shockingly long periods of time, and Arya didn't fancy starting cold.

Her poor hair had suffered from her busy schedule, and she tied it up as best she could as she jogged down the frosty path to the quidditch pitch, stray tendrils escaping her hasty ponytail and curling into her eyes. She'd have to take care of it before the match somehow, and a pair of scissors was beginning to seem tempting.

She had been in the air for over an hour before she began to feel watched, and did her now customary twitch to glance over her shoulder. This time she could see who was watching, and she let out an excited shriek and sped toward the ground, where the figures of Hagrid and Sirius were casually strolling toward her.

Sirius was grinning and waving up at her, though his expression turned to mild panic as she didn't bother to land before crashing in for a hug. He narrowly avoided being skewered on the end of her broomstick, and laughed as he swung her around in a wide circle before setting her on her feet again.

"What are you doing here? Are Remus and Dora coming? It's so great to see you!" She launched another attack hug, and Sirius had to wait until he could breathe properly again before answering her.

"School Governors get to watch the games, didn't I tell you?" His sly grin said that he was very much aware that he hadn't told her, but he dodged out of the way of her punch and kept talking. "Remus and Dora don't have the same privilege, but they both send their love. And it's great to see you too! You've gotten taller haven't you? Merlin it's only been two months, how is that possible? And what have you done to your hair?"

He plucked half-heartedly at her mass of snarled red curls that had come half undone from their tie, and Arya grinned sheepishly.

"I haven't done anything with it," she exclaimed, "at all… for like, a week solid."

Sirius groaned. "Come back to the Hagrid's with us, I'll see if I can sort it out over breakfast." He noticed her hesitation and hurriedly added, "I'm cooking, no worries."

Hagrid grinned ruefully at the jab at his abilities as a chef, and led the way back to his small cottage in the shadow of the ancient forest, where Sirius made a simple but large breakfast for the three of them. There were over two hours before Arya needed to be in the changing room to prepare for the match, but time passed in a blur of excited chatter; though communication through the two way mirror meant they had been able to talk often, it was different to be in the same room.

Sirius lamented over the nest that had become of her hair, and Arya winced frequently as he pulled it apart with magic and pure will-power, shaping back into a decent braid again.

"I blame James for this entirely, you know," he said as he tied it off, "we fed him a hair growing potion once and this is pretty much what it looked like."

Arya snorted as she scraped the last of the eggs from her plate and checked her watch; it was now ten thirty, almost time to head down to the changing rooms on the outskirts of the pitch. Wood had probably been panicking over her absence at breakfast for the last few hours, convinced that the Slytherins had done her in. She was sure that some of them would have liked to; the schools reaction to her admittance to the team had been varied, from those who were sure she'd be amazing to those who hooted with laughter and said that they'd look forward to seeing the little first year slip off her broom. A few Slytherin boys had been heard snickering over how the little _girl_ was going to be thrashed going up against the predominantly male Slytherin team; they'd been overheard by several girls from their own house, and Arya had heard Katie Bell saying that the outcome had involved blood.

"I better get going before Wood has a complete panic attack. Will you come say goodbye after the game?"

"Of course I will, but before you go…" Sirius pulled a long and narrow package from out of Hagrid's umbrella bin and tossed it to Arya with a grin.

Arya knew that it was a broomstick from the feel of it in her hands, but she yelped in surprise when she tore off the wrappings to find the new Nimbus 2000 inside.

"Wow! Really Sirius? You didn't need to get me this! My Cleansweep is still practically new!"

Sirius laughed at her, because despite her words she was hugging the shiny broom handle to her chest protectively.

"The Cleansweep was getting outdated after these last few years, besides, had to get you something for being the youngest team player in a century!"

Arya bounced up from her seat to give him a hug in thanks, and bounded for the door with her new broom in hand. She paused suddenly by her old Cleansweep leaning against the door frame, seemingly reluctant to abandon it.

She picked it up and carried it back to Sirius.

"Will you hold on to this during the game for me? I have something in mind to do with it later."

Sirius accepted the broom, which was still in quiet good condition, and Arya ran for the door again, barely clearing the threshold before shooting off into the air, ignoring the ban on flying outside of the Quidditch pitch.

* * *

Sirius and Hagrid made their way down to the pitch minutes later, joining the flow of students streaming from the castle, Sirius holding the old broom over his shoulder. Hagrid spotted Ron, Neville and Hermione in the stands, and the two adults opted to join them rather than join the other staff members in their separate box. Ron and Neville greeted them happily, and even remembered to introduce the other girl, Hermione, after she prodded Neville in the ribs. She had clever brown eyes, wavy hair, and slightly large front teeth; Arya had told him that she was keenly intelligent and a stickler for rules, but he barely had time to say hi and shake her hand before the players entered the field, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Sirius leaned forward eagerly, staring down at the small figures below, Arya's bright red hair identifying her standing toward the back of the scarlet team as they faced off with the Slytherins in green. The referee's shrill whistle sounded, the balls were released, and the fourteen players shot into the air, Arya's swift kick-off and superior broom spurring her into the air faster than all the others.

The commentator's voice filled the air, but Sirius only paid half a mind to the rest of the game, eyes glued to Arya's form as she gained height and began searching the field in a slow and steady grid pattern from above the other players.

She really was an amazing flyer, instinctive and smooth, guiding the broom as if it were an extension of herself instead of a separate entity. He hoped that James could see her; Regulus had been mute on any question about what happened after death, but Sirius liked to think that Lily and James could see her now.

She dodged a bludger without fazing, and pulled off an amazing vertical flip to avoid the Slytherin caption colliding with her as she and the other seeker sped toward the snitch; the boy who had tried to hit her collided with his teammate instead, the snitch disappearing in all the confusion. The Gryffindors cackled with laughter or muttered angrily about the disturbance, and Sirius released his white knuckled hold on the bleacher seat. Quidditch was a bit different from a parent's perspective; he'd forgotten how violent the matches could become, with seekers often being the most targeted player.

He was amazingly proud, watching her outfly older and more experienced opponents - if he could just remember to breath he'd be fine. He practically groaned in fright as another bludger came pelting toward her from her left, and thought to himself that he was never going to let her find out that he was such a baby during her matches. He might have to bribe Ron to keep his mouth closed though, because the boy looked like he had noticed, and was torn between pity and amusement.

Arya arched in a graceful loop over the top of the speeding bludger, coming down unharmed as it few off toward one of the Weasley twins, who pelted it toward a Slytherin chaser. Sirius was breathing yet another sigh of relief when he say it happen, - Arya leaned forward and to the left, toward the far side of the field, and her broom lurched in a sharp motion up and to the right. It may have looked like an accident to the untrained eye, but to an experienced player it was obvious that something was very wrong.

Arya lurched dangerously as her broom tried to go in the opposite direction that she was steering it, and Sirius saw her sway away from the broom before clutching extra tightly and attempting to tilt it toward the ground. She was obviously too frightened to let go of the handle long enough to signal a time out, and no one on the field had noticed that something was wrong. She managed to get the handle down while Sirius was still getting over his shock, but her broom attempted to buck her instead of going down. It began to zig-zag slowly upward, moving erratically from side to side in an attempt to unseat her. Arya gave a wild shout that was audible from the stands, and her broom began to roll over and over again, corkscrewing through the air like a muggle rollercoaster.

Sirius's sense overcame his panic long enough for him to remember that he had a broomstick lying at his feet, and he pulled it out and leapt into the air without thinking about it further. The Weasley twins, bless their crooked hearts, were attempting to pull her onto their own brooms, with no luck. Whenever they got too close, the broom jerked higher away from them.

Sirius felt certain that someone was cursing the broom, watching and reacting to the events taking place. In a moment of what he'd later describe as pure brilliance, Sirius shot into the air until he was higher even than Arya, pulling out his wand and disillusioning himself as he went; whoever the bastard was couldn't prepare for him if he couldn't see him.

Down below, Arya had just been shaken almost entirely from the broom, one leg still looped over the handle, and one hand still grasping on for dear life. She shrieked as Sirius baled into her unseen, but she relinquished her death-grip on the broom and allowed Sirius to bare her back down to the ground. He promptly became visible again, but refused to let go of her, holding her tightly to his chest while she squeaked feebly that she couldn't breathe.

* * *

Up in the stands confusion was paramount, and in the few seconds that it had taken Sirius to get Arya back to the ground, Hermione had been too focused on her task to look up at the drama. She ducked her head down and barreled forward, knocking Quirril off the stand from the seats in front of her, and pausing only the barest second it took to set fire to Snape's robes before scurrying off, as if she was just passing through that section of stands.

With all eyes focused on the sky, no one seemed to notice her. She heard the startled cries and smelled a faint sent of smoke that meant her spell had done its job, and looked up to the sky; her heart seemed to stop in panic as she saw the broom with no Arya on it, drifting meekly into the stands. She glanced to the ground, half expecting to see her friends' broken body lying on the field, but instead saw Arya half struggling to wiggle out of the death grip her father had her in.

Hermione almost laughed, she was so relieved.

One of the twins grabbed the abandoned broom from the air before it could drift too far away, and brought it to the ground, holding it like a flame spitting salamander. He dropped it carefully to the ground, and Sirius finally released his hold on Arya, taking control of the chaos in the immediate vicinity. He sent a patronous to Dumbledore and forbid anyone from touching the broom until it could be examined. Sure as he was that the source had been external, he wasn't willing to take any chances.

Madame Hooch announced that the match would be rescheduled, and the milling and chattering students were released back to the castle amid great confusion, as Hermione pushed her way down to the field where Arya and the others had gathered.

"Where in Merlin's name did you shoot off to?" Ron asked, taking in her disheveled appearance and winded breath.

"I think Snape was cursing the broom!" She said, and Sirius wheeled around to stare at her. She almost faltered at the murderous look in his eyes, but kept talking instead. "He was staring at her without blinking, muttering to himself non-stop. I couldn't understand what he was saying as I went by, but it sounded like Latin, and the broom stopped moving after I set his robes on fire!"

That last bit seemed to crack something in Sirius, and he gaped at her wordlessly for a moment before suddenly roaring with laughter, making Hermione jump.

"You set Snape on fire? Ha!" His laughter sounded eerily like the growling of an enormous dog, and then it was gone as quickly as it had come. "Hagrid, will you walk them back to the common room? I need to have a meeting with the Headmaster, and if he doesn't have an acceptable explanation for Snape's behavior, I've got one greasy murder to commit."

Hagrid nodded as if this were a perfectly reasonable plan of action, and led the reluctant and shaken group back up to the castle, Arya protesting the entire way that she was _fine_, and that she needed to stay with Sirius to make sure he didn't go back to prison.


	47. Chapter 47

**A/N. I suppose Friday afternoon isn't prime time to release a new chapter, but oh well! **

**Thank you for all the reviews, I love reading those and knowing people are enjoying the work, it helps keep me motivated to do more!**

**Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy.**

Chapter 47

Arya sat on one of the comfy couches in the Gryffindor common room, the light and heat of the crackling fire playing over her skin. It was barely past noon, an hour or so after the aborted Quidditch match, but the cloudy skies and dark atmosphere made it feel much later.

Despite the comforting presence of her friends, Arya felt deeply disturbed by the events of the morning. She had been told that Quidditch and flying could be dangerous, but she had always felt secure in the air; gusts of wind, bludgers, opposing players, steep dives, and twists she knew she could handle. There had always been a wonderful feeling of freedom and control as she left the ground behind, and today the feeling of her broom suddenly betraying her had been terrifying. Her natural ability and years of practice had meant nothing to her bucking broomstick, and though she'd had her wand up her sleeve she hadn't been able to take her hands off the handle, nor did she know any spells that she thought would have been of aid. She'd been completely helpless; tossed around like an ill-treated doll in the hands of a violent toddler.

Sirius had sent them off to the safety of the common room, and his continued absence added to her unease. She had both the map and the mirror on her lap, and was watching the tiny dots of Severus Snape, Sirius Black, and Albus Dumbledore pace around the Headmaster's office, wishing that she could make speech bubbles appear by their markings.

Snape's dot had yet to disappear off the map, and Arya took that to mean that Sirius had reined in his temper long enough to hear a satisfactory explanation of some type. Arya had been shocked, to say the least, when Hermione had explained that Snape had been performing some type of wandless magic during her struggle to remain airborne, though not as shocked as when Hermione continued on to explain that she'd lit him on fire in an attempt to rescue her.

Arya was touched by her friend's determination to save her, but she couldn't quite wrap her head around the idea of Snape trying to do her in – at least with that method. She'd been taking private lessons with him every week since almost the beginning of term; if he'd wanted her dead, there would've been a more convenient time and method of murdering her. She'd be curious to hear what he _had_ been doing at the match, and had high hopes that Sirius would be able to tell her shortly.

Hermione had gone from fierce certainty to a state of highly embarrassed mortification when she'd realized she'd probably set her professor on fire for no good reason. Ron, and to Arya's surprise, Neville, weren't convinced of his innocence, but Ron laughed long and hard over Hermione's predicament. Arya refrained from mentioning that with his legilemency skills, Snape was likely to learn that his recent combustion had been Hermione's doing during their next potions class. Since using legulemency on students was technically illegal, he wouldn't be able to punish her for it without getting into more serious trouble himself.

Arya glanced down at the map as the others murmured speculations back and forth, the discussion leading them around in circles, and saw that Sirius's dot had departed the office and was making its way toward them at a quick pace.

Arya eased herself off the couch, trying to avoid putting pressure on her various bruises, and made it to the common room door in time to open it for Sirius. He glance behind her into the crowded and buzzing room, and then shook his head and gestured for her to follow him down the hall and into a deserted classroom.

He set her new broom down on the nearest desk, and then gave her a much gentler hug than he had after the match.

"Feeling alright, kiddo?"

"I'm fine, just a bit shaken up. What happened with Snape and Dumbledore?"

Sirius threw up his hands in frustration. "I don't know what those two are playing at, but they're keeping me in the dark. Dumbledore says that Snape was protecting you by using a counter curse in an attempt to steady your broom, and I believe him on that front. What with the Stone being here this year, (how'd you find out about that, by the way, I never asked?) Snape is supposed to be helping Dumbledore keep you safe. The simple fact that Dumbledore thinks you need extra protection tells me that there's a bloody lot more going on here than they'll let slip."

"Albus blathered some barmy nonsense about not keeping all his eggs in one basket and avoided direct answers, you know how he is when he doesn't want to tell you something. That man and his secrets… I thought we'd been getting past that these last few years."

"You really think someone was trying to do me in? It wasn't just a Slytherin trying to tip the match? It's what most of Gryffindor seems to think." Arya said, though she thought she knew the answer.

"No student could break through the protection spells on a professional broomstick; this was dark magic, and without Snape's counter curse it could have been over too quick for anyone to do anything." He looked sick at the idea. "I could kiss him, if he weren't such a greasy despicable git."

"Do you think it's the same person who is trying to steal the Stone?" Arya asked, and Sirius threw her a sharp glance.

"Do you think you know who it is? Have you seen something?"

Arya shook her head, but explained about the troll incident, "I don't think that was a prank either, I think it was a distraction. And Snape's leg was a bloody mess that night, he's been limping ever since; if he's working with Dumbledore maybe he was hurt stopping someone from getting past that ghastly dog. A bite from a creature like that would explain why Madame Pomfry couldn't just heal it right off."

Sirius groaned and sank down into a students' chair.

"Sirius…" Arya paused, "Someone is seeking a stone that grants immortality, and that same person seems to want me dead. Doesn't that make it seem as if it might be, you know… Voldemort?"

Sirius didn't flinch at the name, but his already solemn expression darkened further. "I want you to start taking your cloak with you wherever you go, and the map and mirror too, for that matter. Put one of your parent's wands in your spare holder too, just in case. I don't know what's going on here, but it's making me extremely nervous."

Arya nodded her agreement, her heart beating fast in her chest. She almost told him about her odd feeling of being watched, but the already worried look on his face held her back. There wasn't anything he could do about it, and he already looked worn from the day's events.

He stood from his chair and handed her the broom. "You can have this back, it's been checked over by Dumbledore himself. The match has been rescheduled for next weekend, and I got a promise out of Dumbledore to attend, so we shouldn't have a repeat of today."

Arya felt a weight lift from her shoulders; with Dumbledore in attendance, she would be safe. Sirius walked her back to the common room with an arm around her shoulders, and paused outside the portrait to say goodbye.

"I'll see you next week before the match again, so keep safe until then, and keep an eye out for anyone acting oddly. I'll send Kreacher out to do some surveillance, see if there's any chatter among the old Deatheater crowds."

Arya nodded seriously, bide him goodbye, and entered the common room where a very curious Ron, Hermione, and Neville were waiting to hear the news. Arya told them what was safe to repeat, wishing that her friends had learned occlemency at the same time as she had.

Ron finally conceded that Snape must be on their side, but it was Neville who surprised her.

"I'd still be careful around him, Arya. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had meant to kill you."

Neville seemed to think he'd said too much, and shut up like a clam after that, but it was enough for Arya to decide that she needed to do some serious digging into her potion master's history.

Clearly, Neville knew something that she did not.


	48. Chapter 48

**A/N. Sorry for yet another long delay, suffering from a bit of writers block these last few weeks. Next chapter shouldn't have as long a wait though!**

**Thank you for leaving reviews even though I suck at responding! If you ask direct questions I will try to get back to you, though I'm sure I've missed a few. Your support and encouragement is appreciated. **

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Chapter 48

Second week of November.

Sirius returned from the rematch against Slytherin certain that Arya would soon outmatch even James' flying talents; Gryffindor had flattened Slytherin in twenty minutes, Arya scooping the Snitch out of the air before the other Seeker had even caught sight of it. The most Slytherin could boast of in the match was getting in some truly awful fouls and one measly score. There would no doubt be nasty incidents in the corridors as the Slytherins vented their dissatisfaction, but that sort of thing didn't usually get too far out of hand.

Vengeful quidditch players were far down on the list of Sirius's worries, which started with Philosophers Stones and vengeful Dark Lords. Dumbledore had confided in Sirius more than Sirius had let on to Arya, much to Snape's displeasure. Sirius knew that Dumbledore suspected that someone was attempting to steal the Stone on behalf of Voldemort, though he hadn't divulged who he thought it was; Snape had smirked in a sickeningly self-satisfied way that had told Sirius that Snape was in on the details.

The elaborate array of safety enchantments surrounding the Stone was, of course, a trap. If Dumbledore wanted the Stone safe, he'd have put it in his pocket.

Sirius was sure there was more going on than what he was being told, and Dumbledore had freely admitted as much to him when asked. The drabble about eggs in a basket had actually occurred, and he had been instructed not to burden Arya with the information that he had been given. Sirius wasn't sure what the point of holding back was, given that he was certain that Arya had figured out as much as he'd been told already. He rather suspected that Dumbledore wished her to work it out on her own, which was just absurd enough of an idea for him to believe it of the old man. He was treating the attempted return to power of the most evil wizard in history like a mind exercise for an eleven year old.

The fact that it was Sirius's eleven year old made it a little less crazy because she was smart enough to do it, but nerve wracking for her parent.

Snape had assured him, in what Sirius thought might have been a rare moment of sincerity, that he was doing as much as he could to keep her safe, but Sirius hardly found this reassuring. He knew for a fact that Arya frequently wandered the castle at night under her cloak, and Hagrid had taken her into the forest on multiple occasions; Sirius would have to trust her cloak and Hagrid's presence to keep her safe.

Sirius ran his hands through his short hair in frustration as he entered Remus's cottage, welcoming the heat from the wood burning stove that was filling the room. Frost was clinging to the outside of the windows and his breath puffed in the air as he closed the door behind him. He paused in the entranceway, looking in at the space he had called home since the day he had left Azkaban; it looked different now than it had that night. There were fewer shabby things, though the old couch was the same, and signs of those who lived there were evident. Arya's pictures on the walls and mantelpiece, Sirius's stacks of files and information lining the shelves and half the table, and splashes of bright colors that Tonks had contributed clashing with the earth toned furniture.

Sirius leaned against the door and observed his two friends, passed out on the couch under a warm blanket, the cat snug between them and Tonks snoring softly. In winters this was a common sight on their days off. Two empty mugs that had contained hot chocolate sat on the small table next to them, and Sirius though again about why Tonks hadn't moved in yet.

She stayed almost every night, and most of her things had made their way to the cottage for convenience, but there was no permanent arrangement, and Sirius had never heard them discuss the matter. He suspected that he was the cause of the delay. Remus wouldn't ask him to move out; he knew that Sirius had never had a proper home before, with stability and family that cared for him, and he was unwilling to be the one to bring an end to the arrangement they had together.

Sirius smiled a bit sadly and shook his head at the dozing couple. Remus had been looking at rings, though he didn't know that Sirius was on to him. The other week Sirius had looked over his friends shoulder while he was supposedly reading an old tome of ancient wizarding history, and had instead seen that there was a jewelry catalogue tucked in between the pages, opened to a selection of diamond rings. Sirius had crept back down the hall without alerting Remus to his presence.

Tonks was unconventional enough to marry a man who lived with his best friend and daughter, but Sirius knew they deserved a place that could be theirs, and theirs alone.

He'd sulked for a while after finding out about Remus's intentions, because the truth was that Remus's cottage had become his home. He'd been out of place and unaccepted in his family house growing up, had stayed with James's family briefly before graduation, and had then moved to a small flat in London while fighting in the war. The cottage had felt more permanent and homely than anything he'd ever had.

Not all of his hesitation was because of his own reluctance to let go, he was also thinking of Arya. She had been too young when James and Lily had died to remember having a home with them, and the Dursley's cupboard under the stairs simply didn't qualify as 'home' to Sirius's mind. The cottage was where they'd both found a home, together.

Much as Remus didn't want to be the one to tell Sirius that that time was over, Sirius was loath to break the news to Arya.

Tonks stirred as Sirius made his way to the kitchen table, brandishing his wand at the piles of reports and files of information that he had been compiling over the last few years. He now knew more about most former Death Eaters than the Ministry ever had. He was almost ready to begin feeding the information into the right ears, and sit back and watch as Voldemort's former support system crumbled from within.

Tonks raised her head from where it had been resting on Remus's chest, and gracefully wiped a line of drool from her chin as she asked, "What time is it? Waz going on?"

She heaved herself up by pushing off of Remus's chest, and he awoke with a disgruntled expression as all the air left his lungs in a rush.

"Oh, hey Sirius." Tonks yawned, not seeming to notice Remus rubbing his chest uncomfortably next to her. "Arya kick some Slytherin butt, then?"

Sirius grinned, "She sure did. Game was over in minutes, but I hung around for some of the celebration, so it's almost time for lunch. Thought I'd cook something up for the three of us."

"Ah, bullocks, I shouldn't have fallen asleep." Tonks scrambled from the couch and hurriedly caught herself from falling headfirst into the side table before shoving her feet into her shoes and grabbing her jacket. "I was supposed to be at mum's house half an hour ago. I'll catch you guys for dinner though!"

She paused long enough on her way out to kiss Remus a thorough goodbye, and then she was out the door, the crack of her apparation ringing in the still winter air.

Remus leaned back into the couch, a slightly dazed look on his face that only Tonks could cause.

"So" Sirius said, his back to Remus as he fished for the frying pan in the cupboard, "you pick out the ring yet?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I did. I think she'll like it, it's not anything huge, you know, like some of them are these – hey, wait, how-?" Remus finally shook off the sleep and Tonks induced daze, and Sirius laughed as he turned around with the pan to look at his friend.

"I saw you looking last week. When were you going to tell me?"

Remus groaned, and covered his face with his hands. "Oh Merlin, I don't know. Before I asked her, but I haven't figured out when to do that either. I'm open to suggestions."

"Ah, you've asked the right man!" Sirius abandoned the frying pan and crossed the room, taking a seat next to Remus on the couch and kicking his feet up onto the table. "I'm an expert on all things related to the art of love."

Remus peered out from behind his hands just enough to give him an incredulous look. "Sirius, you haven't been on a date since fifth year; you're an asexual bachelor who wouldn't recognize romance if it hit him on the head. How exactly does that make you an expert on love?"

Sirius grinned, "I'm an expert from watching the rest of you dunderheads muck it up all the time. As an impartial observer, I'll naturally be able to give you the best advice. Now, here's what you should do…"

* * *

Severus Snape leaned back with a tired sigh in the uncomfortable old chair that made up a fifth of his quarters furnishings, and glanced at the clock on the wall with a resentful stare. It was nearing midnight and Snape was truly tired; a full Monday of teaching was bad enough without following it up with an entire evening of stalking the ever quivering Professor Quirrell.

Dumbledore swore that the mirror was almost within his possession, and soon Snape would be allowed to let Quirrell attempt to retrieve the stone without interference. It simply wouldn't do to let him through early, though Snape wasn't sure whether the damn man had even figured out how to get past the dog yet; he certainly hadn't been prepared on Halloween, when Snape had been obliged to dive in after him, sacrificing a good chunk of his leg in the process of removing Quirrell from the jaws of death. He'd so wanted to let the dog finish him off, but Dumbledore tended to be against the simple but effective method of killing off his enemies.

The part of Snape's brain that wasn't too tired to care knew that Dumbledore was right; Quirrell was in communication with Voldemort somehow, and if he died they lost their lead to his whereabouts. Voldemort, in whatever form he was in now, was no doubt weak and vulnerable if he was forced to rely on such help as Quirrell had to offer. The previous Dark Lord would stand no chance against Albus Dumbledore as things now stood.

Dumbledore believed that Voldemort would return, because the terms of the prophesy had only been halfway fulfilled, but Dumbledore was not one to rest the outcome of the world on fate, and if he could stop or delay the return of the Dark Lord, he would. Snape knew he'd be right there along with him, or more accurately, trailing behind him on his quest. He was aware that if he'd never relayed what he'd heard that night in the Hog's Head, the prophesy would likely have been forgotten and left unfulfilled, remaining only as a silver orb to collect dust in the Department of Mysteries, unheeded.

Considering that he was to blame for their current situation, he thought it was fair that he was suffering from the consequences. That didn't mean he couldn't hate it all the same.

His first and foremost task this year hadn't changed since the night that Lily had died, - keep Arya Potter safe. This was the first year that he was actually actively keeping the promise he had made to Lily's memory, and considering the evil henchman intent on ending the girl's life, he was finding it to be exhausting work.

Excellent wizard though he may be, he was only one man, and there were two people he was supposed to be keeping an eye on. As the situation stood, he had come up with a workable plan of action; follow Quirrell when he could find him, since he was the danger to the girl's life. At the times he lost track of Quirrell's movements, follow the girl; more often than not, this would cross his path with Quirrell's, who also appeared to be following the girl in his spare moments between scheming how to get past the dog. This plan would only work for as long as the beast guarding the trap door was an obstacle for Quirrell, and Snape was loath to trust Hagrid's silence on such an important matter. Dumbledore put great trust in Hagrid's good heart, but Snape would have liked less goodness and more brains in the giant of a man.

He sighed and tiredly rubbed at his neck, turning his head in circles to work out the stiffness caused by the cold air of the drafty castle and his months of restless nights. The girl seemed intent on making him work extra hard for his atonement; she spent many nights out of the Gryffindor tower, hidden under her cloak and resolved on exploring the castle. Some nights there were enough clumsy sounds and peeks of shoes under the hem as she attempted to sneak past him in the wide corridors that Snape knew she had brought at least one or two of her friends, but sometimes she was quite alone. She often ended up in the Library, and though Snape admired her dedication to learning, he missed the appeal of reading there in the dead of night instead of simply checking out the ruddy books like a normal person.

When Quirrell was in his quarters, Snape would simply linger in the hallway outside his door, and the biggest threat to the girl was contained. Unfortunately for his sore feet, Quirrell was prone to night time wanderings also, and Snape was forced to run intervention between the two of them if Quirrell failed to return to his room by the time the girl left her dormitory.

If he could catch the girl without her cloak on, he would give her so many detentions that he would never have to wander after her in the night again; guarding her from the relative safety of his own office was very appealing.

He had been unsure of how to keep an eye on her at first, given that she was entirely impossible to spot under her cloak, but had eventually come up with a simple solution. Putting tracking spells on students was both illegal and impractical, due to their dubious moral nature and their tendency to ware out very quickly. Between potion lessens twice a week and legilemency lessons every Friday, Snape had ample opportunity to spell her shoes, book bag, and, just to be thorough, her winter cloak and several of her hair ties. He ignored the legal implications. Exceptional though she was, she could not yet sense magic the way the Dumbledore could, tracing it's presence through the air and currents like some tangible thing. The spells on her belongings remained unnoticed. He kept a careful distance, and always tried to have and excuse for being where he was, because if she noticed she was being tracked she would attempt to lose him.

He liked to think that he was a competent enough wizard that tracking an eleven year old child wouldn't be an obstacle for him, whether she was aware of his presence or not, but the girl's brain was a little uncanny at times, and Snape didn't want to put her to the test.

He had promised Lily that he would keep her safe. And when the girl had been in the air the other week, dangling by one hand while Snape was futilely attempted to keep the broom in place, he had felt true fear for the first time in many years.

It had been a decade since Snape had felt much besides grief and guilt with a nice side dish of simmering hate, and the sharp spike of fear had driven through his mind like lightning. He hadn't just been afraid of failing Lily; he had always failed her in life, surely even in death she would be expecting him to miss the mark. No, - he had been genuinely afraid that the girl was going to die. And he had understood in that moment what Dumbledore had meant when he'd said that Snape was afraid of her.

He feared for Arya Potter because he cared for her. And for Snape, that was a truly nauseating thought.


	49. Chapter 49

**A/N. Hey, look at me not making you wait! **

**I seem to be recovering from writers block, finally. Thank you for reading, please review if you have the time!**

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Chapter 49

End of November

Once Sirius decided he was going to do something, he just went right ahead and did it. Remus admired the man's determination; he had made up his mind that Remus and Tonks should have their own space, and the next week he was gone. He hadn't settled on a permanent place to live yet. By unspoken agreement it had been decided that he would wait until Tonks accepted or declined Remus's proposal, which had subsequently put the pressure on Remus to actually get around to popping the question.

Sirius had actually been a great help in the planning, much to Remus' surprise. Step one, according to the Plan, was to officially ask her to move in with him, explaining that Sirius had decided on finding his own place. That part of the plan he had already accomplished and Tonks had agreed immediately, to his relief. She had practically lived there anyway, so all that needed to be done was to move a few more boxes from her flat and settle the lease with her management.

Tonks was very similar to her cousin in that neither of them liked to waste time after making a decision; her boxes had appeared in the morning, haphazardly stacked in the living room, and Tonks was coming over after her work ended for the day. As simple as that, and she would be living with him.

Where Sirius's particular genius came in was, oddly enough, in the redecorating. Tonks was a laid-back, casual sort of woman, and so, Sirius had explained, it was up to Remus to make sure she had special and nice things, otherwise she'd never get them at all. Remus wasn't sure about Sirius's logic, but the gist of it was that Tonks deserved something special, and with that Remus whole-heartedly agreed.

Despite their wealth, Remus and Sirius had never given the cottage an overhaul, which Remus had to admit that it had needed for some time. The two men now stood together in the center of the dining room and kitchen area, wands pointing outward as they slowly turned in place. When they had come full circle, the cottage had been transformed. The tiles on the kitchen floor gleamed newly, the carpet in the living room had been replaced, and the walls of the cottage shone with fresh layers of paint. Sirius nodded approvingly, and then began to take care of the details. The light fixtures became more modern, the kitchen appliances replaced with those they had ordered from a wizarding catalogue, the cupboards now had new wood and a lighter varnish.

The cottage was now a home that Remus knew Dora would belong in.

Sirius made a triumphant sound and wandered into the kitchen, opening the cupboards and peering inside, presumably to make sure that the dishes they had ordered had transported themselves to the correct location. They were a bright turquois in color and the label had claimed they were unbreakable. The living room furniture had been re-apolstered, because he couldn't bear to part with the comfy old couch and armchair entirely, and the curtains were now a gauzy white that filtered the winter sunlight softly into the room. He had to admit that the whole place felt brighter from the changes.

He headed down the hall to take care of the bedroom, and Sirius began to convert his old bedroom into a guest room, leaving Arya's room untouched until Sirius decided on a new house.

After a quick lunch, Remus directed the boxes to the rooms in the house that Tonks had labeled them with, and left them stacked against the walls in each room. He figured that she would want to get her own things settled where she wanted them.

Sirius had advocated for a fancy dinner followed by a formal proposal that evening, but Remus had thought of something better. He was ordering take out from the local pub where they'd had their first unofficial date years ago, and then instead of getting drunk and singing Christmas carols, they were going to get drunk and he was going to ask her to marry him. Perhaps it wasn't traditionally romantic, but it was probably perfectly suited for Dora.

By four in the afternoon they had finished everything they could think of, and Sirius fetched them each a butterbeer before sinking into the old but new-looking couch with a sigh.

"Ready, Moony?" Sirius asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be, Padfoot. I haven't shown you the ring yet, have I?" He dug in his pocket without waiting for a response, handing a small box over to Sirius for inspection.

The ring was classic in that it was gold and diamond, but the shape was unique, -delicate and twinning gently in a circle. There was a floral feel to the design, and the diamond wasn't huge, but was cut in such a way that it caught even the slightest bit of light and reflected it in a thousand tiny sparkles on the wall.

Sirius whistled. "Nice job mate, she'll love it."

"I hope so," Remus said, tucking the small box back into his pocket, "either way we'll find out soon, she should be back any moment now."

Sirius stood up from the couch, finishing off his drink and preparing to head out. "I'd better be off then, don't want to ruin the big reveal."

Remus stood as well. "Thanks for everything, Sirius. You sure you're alright in that old house? I know you hate the place."

Sirius grimaced in distaste. He'd been staying at Grimauld Place until he could find a better option and get the proper protection in place, and he couldn't pretend to be happy about it. "I'll start looking for a new place tomorrow. You just worry about yourself tonight."

Remus grinned nervously, and Sirius's answering grin contained his usual reckless mirth. He disapparated from beyond the front gate, and Remus was left to sweat alone for ten more minutes before Dora stumbled out of the floo.

Sirius had been right, she did love the changes after Remus convinced her that she was actually in the right place, and that _no_ it wasn't an ambush by dark wizards who had tampered with her floo.

Also as Sirius had predicted, she said yes when he asked her to marry him. And although it hadn't been part of the plan, they did proceed to get properly smashed and sing Christmas carols again, thankfully without witnesses this time.

* * *

Mid December

Arya was not having a fantastic day. Or week.

Monday had arrived with the news that Mrs. and Mr. Weasley were taking Ginny on a trip to Romania over the entirety of the winter holidays. Arya hadn't seen Ginny since the beginning of September, and had been looking forward to seeing her again for months. Letters were great, but it wasn't quite the same. She resigned herself to another few more months of waiting, and sent Ginny her early Christmas present that very night; her old broomstick.

Arya had been friends with Ginny for over a year before the younger girl had confided her secret passion for flying, and they had snuck out together to break into the broom shed on her many visits to the Burrow. Arya had shined her old broom handle till it glowed, and trimmed the twigs until it looked practically new.

She sent it in the evening, hoping that it would arrive at night and go undetected by Ginny's parents, and hoping that Ginny wouldn't be offended by the second hand gift. She had wanted to get Ginny a proper broom for ages, but the Weasley's were notoriously touchy about accepting anything they viewed as charity; receiving a new broom when Ginny couldn't give her anything of equal value as a gift would have caused more pain than joy. A used broom, however, wouldn't seem like such a huge deal. She was fairly certain that Ginny would understand her compromise.

She had made no progress digging into Snape's background, though she had checked over all the old school records in the library. His father had either been foreign, muggleborn, or a muggle. There was nothing damning in the old newspaper archives either, though she hadn't gotten through all of them. The newspapers from the time of the old war were few and far between, and she didn't know how to proceed except to start asking around, and if that got back to Snape the game was up.

On Thursday Sirius had called her over the mirror, and broken the news that she wouldn't be going home to the cottage over the winter holidays.

In retrospect, Arya thought she should have seen that coming. She had been thrilled to hear at the end of November that Remus and Tonks were engaged, but had failed to understand the full meaning behind the idea. Of course it made sense that Sirius and she would be moving out, instead of Tonks just joining all of them at the cottage, but the logic didn't make it hurt less. She had managed to assure Sirius that she was fine and choked out a goodbye before putting the mirror down and crying.

She felt foolish and selfish for being so upset about it, but that cottage had been her home. She had put down the mirror before Sirius had had a chance to tell her if they even had a new home yet, and was too embarrassed to contact him again that night.

Arya woke up with a headache on Friday from crying instead of sleeping the proper amount of time the night before. For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, she skipped her run on a day without quidditch practice, in favor of rolling over and sleeping some more. She slept right through till quarter to eight, and had to skip a shower and breakfast in order to make it to potions on time. Hermione apologized repeatedly for not waking her up, but she had just assumed that she was already done with her run and shower and was waiting for her in the common room.

Arya assured Hermione that it wasn't her fault, because it genuinely wasn't, and tried to ignore her stomach growling throughout their double period of potions. Malfoy, still bitter from the quidditch loss, was being especially rude. After a comment about Ron's family being too poor to take all their children on vacation, Arya lost her temper and spelled his shoe laces together. His resulting trip into his own simmering potion was immensely satisfying.

Snape gave her a searching look, and Arya was thankful that she was skilled enough to appear innocent to his prying mind, because he had recently been taking delight in giving her detention whenever he could find an excuse. Every detention he'd given her so far had turned into another occlemency lesson, and those tended to leave her feeling drained.

She sighed in relief as she finally sat down to lunch in the great hall an hour later. The last official class of the term was over, and she'd have the entire afternoon to spend with her friends before heading out for the holidays to Merlin knew where the next day.

Food, she reflected, could make any situation seem better.

"Miss Potter." Professor McGonagall's voice called from behind her, and Arya chocked on her bite of chicken as she started in surprise.

"Er, yes?" She spluttered after clearing her airways, turning around on the bench to look up at the professor.

McGonagall gave her a thin smile. "When you have finished with your meal, please proceed to my office." Arya gulped, and McGonagall raised any eyebrow, "You need not look so frightened Miss Potter, you're not in trouble. I wish to discuss your classwork."

"Err, alright Professor. I'll be right there after I finish eating."

McGonagall eyed Arya's plate, which was stacked up half a foot in the air with food, but nodded and left the Great Hall without comment.

"Wonder what that's about?" Hermione said, but Arya just shrugged uncertainly and continued her meal with renewed vigor. Whatever surprise was awaiting her in McGonagall's office, at least she could face it with a full stomach.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall entered her office and took a seat behind her desk, examining the neat row of binders placed in front of her, and smiling a satisfied smile. Finally she had come up with a plan.

Arya entered the room a quarter of an hour later, looking curiously around the room that she had never been in before. Minerva resisted the urge to shake her head at the appearance of one of her brightest students; Arya had obviously not touched her hair after waking up this morning, and it appeared that her shirt was on inside out, though it was hard to tell from under her cloak.

"Have a seat, Miss Potter." Arya sat, looking slightly nervous. Minerva was never sure whether to be flattered or offended that she had that effect on most students. "I've called you to my office today because you are undoubtedly one of the brightest witches I've ever had in class; and because you're also one of the worst students I've ever taught. Do you know why that is, miss Potter?"

Arya's sudden look of chagrin told her that she did have some idea what she meant, but she stayed silent.

"No? Then I'll tell you. You are a bad student because I have not been able to teach you anything that you haven't already taught yourself. You do not pay attention to lectures because you already understand the concepts, and you read in class because you are bored. You spend no effort to learn the spells because you have already learned them, and your homework is not challenging in the slightest. Am I correct?" Minerva gave her just enough time to look sheepish before continuing. "I thought so. It is past time we corrected this situation."

Minerva selected the top binder of parchment and set it in front of Arya.

"Kindly fill out this test form to the best of your ability."

Arya looked down at the material in front of her, and Minerva saw the dawning comprehension in her eyes. She shot a glance at the remaining files on the desk, and then sighed in defeat and began writing out her answers.

Minerva smiled in satisfaction and helped herself to a ginger biscuit from the tin on her desk, hand resting on the stack of remaining folders, - end of year transfiguration exams for year two through seven. It was past time she found out just how far ahead Arya had studied, and adjust her curriculum accordingly. She took out the essays that needed grading and began her own work, the only sound the ticking of the clock and the scratching of quills.

* * *

Although Arya was supposed to have an occlemency lesson with Snape that evening, Professor McGonagall informed her that she wouldn't be going anywhere until she was satisfied with the placement testing. By the time Arya got to the third stack of parchment, she was seriously considering intentionally getting the answers wrong.

McGonagall summoned them sandwiches when time for dinner arrived, and it wasn't until Arya was on the fourth stack of parchment that she began to struggle in earnest with the material. She had been diligently plowing ahead in her reading and wand practice, but she hadn't mastered the fourth year material yet. She did the best she could with the written work, and managed the practical spells with relatively few mistakes when McGonagall instructed.

McGonagall nodded thoughtfully to herself as she read through the fourth test, and then, thankfully, told her that she was free to go as the clock neared seven in the evening. She was going to make Snape's lesson after all.

"Oh, by the way, Miss Potter,- I believe professor Flitwick is expecting your arrival in his office in about twenty minutes time. Professor Snape has already been informed that you will not be able to make your accelerated potions lesson, so do try not to look so concerned. Good evening."

Arya _almost_ let the door slam behind her on the way out.


	50. Chapter 50

**A/N. Sorry for yet another long wait! My powers of procrastination are impressive, I know. **

* * *

Chapter 50

Arya was able to face the train ride home with better humor after a decent night's sleep and a large breakfast. Professor McGonagall's scheme to put her in a corrected grade level was actually quite clever, and the prospect of taking classes that would actually challenge her wasn't unappealing after a little thought. If she moved up in Charms and Transfiguration, she would spend less time outside of class having to study new material on her own, and though she had half expected Professor Quirrell to call her in for the same testing, he had not. When she returned from break, it was likely that most of her schedule would remain as it was.

Leaving Ron behind at Hogwarts made her wish for a while that she was a normal student heading to a normal home for the holidays; the Girl who Lived couldn't invite a friend over for break. The more people let into the protection, the less secure it became upon the event of Dumbledore's death. Arya had argued for leniency based on the fact that Dumbledore was likely the most powerful wizard alive, and thus not likely to fall anytime soon. She had been overruled. Arya frowned in confusion as she considered the idea that perhaps new enchantments had to have been put into place at where ever her new home was. Would Remus and Dora even be allowed to visit the new location? That trail of thought almost made her sink into a foul mood again, but her nature wasn't predisposed to long bouts of despondency, and she perked up while playing a match of exploding snap with Neville.

Snow swirled outside the windows in blustering drifts, and Arya managed to talk Hermione out of her book and into the next game of exploding snap. Hermione was less than amused by her resulting singed eyebrows.

Her book lying forgotten for a moment, Hermione and Neville were discussing their Christmas plans after the game, Hermione lamenting the fact that they were strictly forbidden from practicing magic at home. Arya had worried that Hermione would be offended that she was advancing and Hermione was not, but Hermione hadn't taken that view.

"Of course you should advance! I'm honestly surprised you weren't placed ahead sooner." She'd said the night before, when Arya had come into their dormitory after her Charms testing.

Hermione didn't seem to have put any more thought to it, but the situation had made Arya pause. Arya had been allowed to learn as much as she could on her own before starting school, and although giving an underage child a wand to practice with was technically illegal, the ministry didn't often enforce that particular law until they started Hogwarts. Children with magical parents learned magical history, like the Weasley's, but like Arya, other families cheated the system. Draco Malfoy, for instance, had no doubt been tutored by his parents; Andromeda Tonks and her sisters had learned magic from her family long before entering school, and Sirius and his brother had been tutored as well. Arya suspected that James had been no different. Hogwarts took responsibility for informing non-magic families when their child's name showed up on the Hogwart's registry, but signs of magic showed up much sooner than the families were informed.

Hermione was extremely intelligent. She had an endemic memory, and had she been given the same chance that Arya had, she might be moving ahead along with her. Arya knew that there were reasons for the way the system worked, but it ultimately worked against muggleborns. Why wasn't there a school that taught younger magical children theory, history, and the basics of Latin?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the trolly lady, and she pushed her troubled musings to the back of her mind.

The platform was crowded with parents and younger siblings, and the stopped train shuddered with the movements of hundreds of students hauling luggage down from the overhead racks. Arya stood on the seat and handed the bags down the Neville and Hermione, but dragged her feet on the way to the exit.

She paused by the doors opened to the platform, the cold air of Kings Cross Station hitting her face. Neville and Hermione jumped down and headed in the same direction; Arya could see a man and a woman in muggle attire that actually seemed genuine, and a little further into the station a grotesque vulture teetered over the top of the crowd. Arya smiled at the sight of Mrs. Longbottom's unique hat.

She scanned the platform for Sirius, but the couple standing just to her right made her pause. She had never met Narcissa Malfoy, but seeing her next to her husband and son was like looking at a complete set; all three had the same white blond hair, similarly styled clothes, and haughty baring.

Arya leaned casually against the doorway watching the Malfoy reunion, shoulders and luggage of passing students jostling her as they shoved their way out of the train. None of the Malfoys noticed her watching them.

Draco didn't rush the same way the other students did, and there were no arms reaching out to embrace him after almost four months of absence. Narcissa did reach out to him when he reached them, straightening his collar and brushing his cheek in a motherly fashion. The moment lasted only seconds. Mr. Malfoy merely nodded to his son, giving no indication of warmth or welcome. Whatever words were said were lost amidst the noise of the mingling families exiting the station, loud cracks sounding every few seconds as parents apparated their children home.

After a few seconds the Malfoys turned to make their way to the apparition points at the outskirts of the platform. Mr. Malfoy caught her eyes as he turned away, bright blue, cold, and as always, calculating. Arya remembered the first time she'd met him, in the small bookstore several years ago,- he'd scared her then, and she could see why now, as she stared down at him from the train. She wondered if all killers developed that look in their eyes over time.

Arya didn't blink or flinch, and it was Malfoy who broke contact first to turn and follow after his wife and son.

* * *

Sirius was just beginning to worry when he spotted Arya making her way toward him, unruly red hair for once properly tucked into a braid. Sirius grinned and waved, and Arya grinned back, wheeling a suitcase behind her with one hand and carrying Ceridwen in a cage in the other hand. Sirius was careful to set the owl down a careful distance away before grabbing Arya up in a hug, and was relieved to hear her shriek of laughter as he spun her around in a wide circle. Perhaps she had forgiven him having to break the news of their moving.

"Hey kiddo, ready to go home?" He asked as her feet hit the ground again.

"In a minute" she replied, turning to scan the crowed and waving for someone to join them.

Neville and Augusta arrived first, Trever the toad securely held in a tank under the boys arm. A young girl with wavy brown hair arrived next, dragging her slightly nervous looking muggle parents along with her.

Sirius recognized Hermione Granger from Arya's description before introductions were even made, and did his best to put her parents at ease and include them in the group. Mr. Granger was casting disturbed looks at Augusta's vulture topped hat, for perfectly understandable reasons.

The adults negotiated a time and place for their kids to meet up over the holidays while the three friends said their goodbyes. Augusta offered up her house as a secure but accessible option, and Arya hugged Neville and Hermione before she allowed Sirius to guide her to the apparation point.

"Wait, don't I have to be told the new location by the secret keeper?" Arya asked, hanging back and looking at him uncertainly.

"Nope," Sirius answered, holding out his hand for her to take. "You'll see, come on."

Arya backed up a step instead, looking even more unnerved, and Sirius realized the problem; Arya had been trained to notice suspicious behavior, and him attempting to lead her off to places unknown with no fidelious charm wasn't normal. Sirius could have kicked himself for not preparing for her reaction, but he saw her hand creeping toward her wand and new he didn't have time. He promptly turned into padfoot for a moment, barked at her once and turned back into a man. No imposter would be able to pull off his transformation.

"It's really me, Arya, relax."

She looked him keenly in the eyes, and he felt a light but definite brush against his mental shields. Anyone under the influence of the imperious curse was left vulnerable to legilamancy, their mind overcome by someone else's influence and unable to defend itself properly.

Arya relaxed and took his hand, but Sirius was left stunned for a moment. As far as he'd been aware, Arya hadn't been taught legilemency; Dumbledore had stuck firmly to defense.

Sirius shrugged off his unease and took her hand, banishing her luggage and owl to the house ahead of them before turning on the spot into a tight nothingness, reappearing instantaneously in their new home. Arya staggered slightly, disconcerted by the landing, and Sirius held her up by the arm as she steadied herself.

"Welcome to your new home! What do you think?"

Arya gapped at their surroundings, and Sirius smiled smugly. The space was wide, with vaulted exposed wood ceiling, lots of windows to let in the light, and stairs leading up into a loft. The drawing room had a wood stove similar to that in Remus's cottage, and there was no wall between the drawing room and the kitchen. Arya darted up the stairs to the loft, and Sirius trailed after her as she explored; the loft was designed as a comfortable office space, combined with what was shaping up to be a decent library. He had put a desk for himself up there, along with one for Arya. Skylights opened up the space nicely, and a second wood stove had been installed for comfort.

Arya rushed back down the stairs while he was only half-way up them, looking flushed and excited.

"Sirius! This place is awesome! Where's my room?"

Sirius pointed toward the hallway leading off from the drawing room, feeling a little ball of tension ease in his chest. He'd been worried she'd take it all a lot worse. He changed direction and tailed her down the hall instead, to find her standing in her room at the end of the hall. He'd had her old room duplicated down to the last detail; it looked exactly like her old one.

Arya sank down on the bed, and Sirius cleared his throat. "I figured a familiar place might be best, but I had the bathroom redone." He gesture to room, and Arya stood up to peek into it. "The luxury bath was Tonks's idea,- she had one put in at the cottage too. Come here, this is the best part!"

Sirius walked over to the wide windows, and waited for her to join him before pulling back the drapes.

Arya gasped, "Wha-? Is that the cottage?!"

Sirius roared with laughter, and flinched back when she jabbed him with a sharp elbow. "Of course it is!" he said, calming down a bit. "Remus and I got to thinking, what was the point of finding a new place and putting up all new security when he was sitting on such a large plot of land? We had the whole thing built off site by Burty's Magical Construction Company and transferred it here ourselves. We only finished with furnishings last night. What do you think?"

Arya lunged in for a hug, and Sirius barked another laugh, catching a glimpse of pink from the cottage window, and knowing that Remus and Tonks were waving at them from across the lawn. They disappeared from the window, and Sirius could see them trekking toward the front door to greet Arya and stay for dinner.

Just because they needed space didn't mean that they needed that _much_ space.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy stayed up later than his wife and son the night that Draco returned from school, seated in front of the hearth and sipping a small glass of brandy.

Narcissa was pleased to have the boy back for the holidays, that much was clear. Lucius would have been more pleased to see him if the reports from his teachers had been more satisfactory; Draco was doing decently in all subjects, but he was far from excelling. When pressed, Severus had admitted that one of the students out-performing his son was a muggleborn girl.

Lucius swirled the ice in his glass agitatedly. The shame of it- a filthy little mudblood outscoring a Malfoy. His own grades had been nothing less than outstanding when he'd been in school… except perhaps in potions, but Severus had always been persuaded into lending a helping hand. His lip curled in disdain, and he downed the last of his drink in one gulp.

Draco had been tutored since he was a small child in magical theory and history. He had already mastered several of the basic dark spells- the same magic Lucius's father had taught him before going to Hogwarts. Lucius supposed that knowledge of dark spells wasn't particularly helpful in a transfiguration exam, but still… When confronted with his poor performance in history of magic, Draco had simply stated that the class was _boring_, as if that was any excuse at all.

Lucius stood and began to pour himself another drink, before stopping himself and setting down the bottle. He had been indulging too much lately. It was not simply Draco's marks that were bothering him; his influence at the ministry was sinking. His enemies were countering his every scheme, uncovering every bit of dirty dealing and bribery he attempted to perform. His money and family name had kept him out of any real legal repercussions, but people were becoming reluctant to deal with him at all. His disastrous run for Hogwarts governor had illustrated to him the depth of his problems; he'd thought he'd had that arrangement settled, and Black had pulled the rug out from under him. He'd been outmaneuvered, and he still had no idea how Black was managing it.

The situation wasn't isolated to him, either. Everywhere he looked his former allies fell from grace, losing influence, money, and jobs. Lucius had no proof that Black was behind it, but he was convinced that he was.

Macnair had been arrested just last week, the aurors coming forward with a rock solid case against him. The wretched man had been unable to satisfy himself with the beheadings of rogue magical monsters, and had apparently taken to hunting muggles in his spare time. Lucius had known of his old friends sport, but had never given it much thought; Macnair had used an axe, not a wand, and the ministry had stayed oblivious for years. How many others would Macnair drag down with him, attempting to spare himself the dementor's kiss? And how was Black managing it all?

There was movement at the entrance to the room, and Lucius saw Dobby the elf shuffling in, small shoulders perpetually hunched, and dirty pillowcase draping off his small frame. Lucius crinkled his nose in distaste as the creature stacked more wood on the fire and straightened the hearth rug. When he crept around the table to clear away the bottle and glass, Lucius grabbed him by the back of his dirty pillowcase and tossed him easily to the floor.

"Did I say I was finished, elf?" He asked coldly, and watched as the small creature squirmed, bowing repeatedly and apologizing. He smirked, and then suddenly lashed out with a vicious kick, sending the squealing elf into the legs of the drawing room table. Here was an outlet that was even better than brandy, and wouldn't fog his mind.

When he was done disciplining the elf, he ordered the creature to clean up the mess and stalked out of the room toward the chambers he shared with his wife. He only remembered that he had avoiding thinking of yet another of his looming problems as he lay down to sleep. The eyes of Arya Potter had been cold and un-affected as he had gazed into them at the station, and Lucius had wondered for the first time whether his hope that the child would grow into the power that the Dark Lord had possessed was foolish. It now seemed likely that if she did become the rising power of the new generation, he'd be placed directly opposite her politically.

It was Black's fault. If the child had been raised away from Black and Dumbledore's influence, Lucius could have presented himself and Draco as a neutral element while he waited to see how she turned out. As things were, Draco had managed to turn their fragile acquaintance into a rivalry before the train had reached the Hogsmead station.

Lucius would have to reconsider his stance, in the morning…

Down the empty marble chambers, Draco Malfoy removed the soft feather pillow from over his ears, and listened carefully, barely breathing. The screams had finally gone silent. There were no sounds in Malfoy manor to disturb his rest, just the snow softly falling outside, blanketing the grounds in gentle drifts.


	51. Chapter 51

**A/N.** Sometimes the creative muses won't shut up in my head, and sometimes they're replaced with a nasty voice that only worries about finishing my degree and other adult responsibilities. Stick with me and Arya until things go back to normal; chapters will be slow until I graduate in May, but they will still be coming.

* * *

Chapter 51

Christmas Eve Night, Romania

Molly Weasley had first caught her only daughter sneaking out to fly in the dead of night when the girl was seven years old. Ginny was now ten, and still had no idea that her over-protective mother knew her secret, as evidenced by her secretive manner of creeping past her parent's bedroom door in the guest cabin on the Dragon Reserve, broomstick over her shoulder.

Molly's smile was ruthful as she sipped her tea, perfectly concealed by her disillousionment charm, and comfortably ensconced in an armchair by the window. The Romanian winter night was cold, and she was glad to see that Ginny was well dressed for the weather. Ginny produced Fabian's old wand from up her sleeve and silenced the creaky old door as she opened it. A blurred streak shot across the sky outside the window. A moment later, Arthur poked his head out of their bedroom door.

"She gone yet, Mollywobbles?"

Molly dropped the charm and smiled at her husband. "Off like an express post owl. Are you sure it's safe out there for her? I'd feel better if she left her night time flying for when we're at the Burrow."

Arthur poured himself a cup of tea before coming to sit on the arm of the chair and putting a comforting arm around his wife.

"I asked Charlie earlier, and he says its fine. No dragons are allowed to wander into the residential area, and our girls' smart enough not to venture out of bounds in dragon country."

Molly nodded in hesitant agreement, and tore her eyes away from the night sky.

"Besides," Arthur continued, "how else would we get any privacy on our vacation?" His grin made him look years younger, and Molly chuckled lightly in response.

"With seven children almost all school aged, I'd say we've always been quite resourceful, my dear."

Arthur leaned down for a kiss, and Molly vanished their cups of tea to the kitchen table with a flick of her wand. They'd have at least an hour until Ginny returned to the cabin.

* * *

Sirius and Arya stayed up late the night before Christmas, accompanied by Tonks and Remus, though the later was fast asleep on the couch. The lofted ceiling of Sirius's new house allowed for a tree of much greater size than normal, and they had taken full advantage of the fact; the towering evergreen almost brushed the rooftop, and its lights cast glimmering sparkles around the entire room.

Arya was stretched out on the floor, half dozing under the twinkling branches as they waited for the clock to strike twelve, and Sirius was sitting with Tonks a short distance away, talking quietly. The adults had been sipping eggnog all evening, and although Arya's had just tasted sweet and spicey, the sip she'd snuck from Sirius's glass had almost made her gag. Whatever 'Rum' was, she didn't approve.

Christmas carols were emanating from the wireless, and Arya was wondering how her friends were doing. They were likely all fast asleep, except for maybe Ginny, if she were off on her new broom somewhere in Romania. She had a brief and terrible image of Ginny meeting up with a dragon midflight, but she pushed that thought away roughly. Dragons weren't even nocturnal.

The old-fashioned grandfather clock that Sirius had re-purposed from Grimauld Place began to chime, and Arya sprang up so fast that no one would have believed her to be half-asleep moments before.

"Presents!" She cried happily, and Remus sat up with a start, hair falling in his eyes and a startled expression on his face. Tonks laughed at him and tousled his hair on her way past the couch to sit on the floor next to Arya. Sirius smacked him lightly on the back of the head as he joined them, and Remus woke up enough to chuck a pillow at him in retaliation before getting up to join them too. Everyone grabbed a present from the pile, and waited until the final chime sounded before tearing into wrapping paper with fervor. It had become a tradition that Arya refused to sleep through.

When the paper had settled, Remus peered out from behind the largest box of chocolates Arya had ever seen to ask Arya what her first present had turned out to be. She had grabbed a mysteries looking package wrapped in brown paper, and was now examining a metal contraption with apparent confusion.

"Er, I'm not actually sure." She fished around in the paper and emerged with a distinctly un-festive looking card, adorned with a cramped scrawl. "Oooh, it's a portable potion brewing station!" She twisted the metal with a deft motion, and it sprang open to reveal a full set up for cauldrons of all sizes, a dial from extremely low heat to tiny inferno, and storage for potion ingredients within arm's reach.

Tonks crawled over to inspect it, pulling on a new hot pink dragon hide jacket at the same time. "Ohhh, this is much nicer than the field version aurors use, Slughorns' really outdone himself this year."

"It's from Professor Snape, actually." Arya said, leaning down to inspect the settings on the heating dial. "This is brilliant; I'll be able to set it up right on my dormitory desk…"

She was so absorbed in her examination that she missed the look on Sirius's face, and failed to notice as he began to choke on the large chunk of Remus's chocolate that he'd stolen. Remus used a handy charm that caused the chocolate to shoot out of Sirius's throat and smack Tonks on the side of the head; her squeal of rage was what finally got Arya's attention.

Although she had missed the cause of the ensuing wrapping paper fight, Arya joined in the melee enthusiastically.

Tonks emerged victoriously some time later, having somehow managed to tie the others together using a combination of tinsel from the tree and their own shoe laces. Arya, exhausted from laughter and wrestling, conceded defeat with both her arms somehow connected to Remus's left foot; Tonks ignored their pleading, choosing to raid the kitchen for leftovers instead.


	52. Chapter 52

**A/N. Ahh, I've missed writing these last few weeks. This chapter might be a bit rough since I'm out of practice, but it was fun to write. **

**Thank you, everyone, for your patience, and thank you especially to those who review. Knowing that people read this helps me get around to writing it, though I enjoy it for it's own sake as well. Your attention and feedback provide inspiration.**

* * *

Chapter 52

Arya solved the mystery of how her anonymous watcher had been keeping track of her the very first week of the new term.

Snow was crisp and settled over the Hogwarts grounds as Arya ran, the late winter sun just beginning to crest the ridges of the mountains in the east. It was the first Monday of term, and her breath puffed into white fog with each exerted step. It was with some relief that she spotted Hagrid outside his hut; he was one of the few people up as early as she was in the mornings, and she often stopped for a cup of hot tea before finishing her trek up to the castle. He waved her forward happily, and she quickened her pace.

Fang bounded out to greet her, jowls flapping wildly as he galloped toward her, and she laughed and dodged out of his path at the last second, stopping to scratch behind his ears before they both ran the distance to Hagrid. He had been in the forest already that morning, she could tell by the presence of his overly large crossbow, leaning against the frame of the front door. No doubt he'd be able to tell her exactly what kind of magical creature was best looked after at dawn, and how best to do it, - she sometimes wondered if the Care of Magical Creatures professor could be half as knowledgeable as Hagrid was.

Today however, Hagrid did not regal her with the latest goings-on of the forest creatures, and after smiling a greeting and asking after her holidays, remained un-characteristically quiet as he prepared their tea. Arya didn't think she'd ever seen him look so troubled, and he kept looking out the window toward the forest, his expression dark. Arya glanced around the wide, one room building, and noticed for the first time that Hagrid's bed was already made, and noticed when Hagrid scooped out a large amount of food for Fang in response to the large dog's whining; Fang was usually fed well before Arya arrived in the mornings, and the bed was usually rumbled and unmade still. Hagrids boots, discarded by the door, where all over mud, and the coals in the hearth had yet to be kicked back up into flame.

Arya remained quiet for a while, using her wand to level several logs into the hearth and to create a breeze onto them until the coals flared to life. Hagrid gave a grunt of appreciation as the warmth began to fill the room, and Arya made a similar noise as she wrapped frozen fingers around her cup of tea; the spell on her gloves must have given out over the holidays.

"Hagrid," she began, "have you been out in the forest all night?"

Hagrid gave her a disgruntled look that said he should have _known_ she'd know, and took a large gulp of tea from his bucket sized mug, though it was still hot enough to scald Arya's throat.

"Arr, you're too observant for yer own good, Ary. Don't suppose I should be talkin' much to students about it, but since it's you… Mind you don't go tellin' everyone about it, but there's something strange been happening in the forest lately." He took another gulp of tea, and eyed her as he continued. No matter how hesitant to talk he was, Hagrid knew how to spin out a story with anticipation. "It's the unicorns, Ary; something, or someone, has been huntin' em."

Arya gapped at him in horror, and Hagrid nodded his agreement at her expression, his own face solemn.

"Why would someone kill a unicorn? _How_ could someone kill one?" Her hands clutched tightly around her mug, though the heat was beginning to burn her hands. "Even poachers can barely contain them long enough to grab a few tail hairs, and they'd never dare to actually…"

Arya trailed off in horror, and Hagrid seemed to understand. "I don't rightly know what it means, but Dumbledore was right troubled, and that has me troubled. I started finding blood trails bout a week ago, just found the first body a few days ago, - and here comes the strange bit, - there wasn't a thing missing from it! A fortune of horn and hair, and the right buyer wouldn't ask for no license, and whoever it was just left it lying in the dirt and snow. That's what made me think it was a creature instead of a person, but the wounds were so clean, and I don't know of nothing in the forest that would harm a unicorn…"

Hagrid trailed off, and Arya leaned back in her chair, thinking hard. Unicorns were beautiful and benevolent, but they weren't delicate. They lived in a forest of dangerous creatures unharmed, until now… Wizards sought their hair and horns for their magical properties, but such items were the hairs and horns collected after shedding. In rare cases poachers managed to pluck hairs or slice horns for sale down Knockturn Alley or the like, but none such had happened so close to Hogwarts. Someone wasn't just hunting down Unicorns; they were doing it under Dumbledore's nose.

They weren't harvesting anything off of them… Horns and tails intact, body left untouched where it fell, and trails of blood that Hagrid was using to track them… Trails of blood…

"Hagrid, what magical properties does Unicorn blood have?"

Hagrid looked up sharply from his contemplation of his mug. "Nothin' anyone in the light would want, Ary."

Arya repressed a shudder. _Anyone in the light_. That meant dark magic, - and something bad enough that Hagrid wasn't going to talk about it with her. There was silence for a few minutes.

"Hagrid, do you think it's the same person who's trying to steal the Philosophers Stone?" Do you think it's the same person I've felt following my every move?

Hagrid chocked on the last of his tea, and nothing she tried after that would get him to tell her anything about the Stone's protection, except to divulge that the Cerberus was named 'Fluffy', not 'that hellhound beast' that Arya had called him. Hagrid made her swear not to even think of entering the forest without him, and then it was past time to head to breakfast, her head buzzing with questions and her stomach rumbling with hunger.

* * *

Professor McGonagall had a knack for approaching her as soon as her mouth was full of food, and she almost chocked on her eggs when the professors voice called "Miss Potter!" from right behind her in the great hall.

Ron sniggered at her as she cleared her air passages and turned around in her seat, managing to elbow him in the process.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Your new schedule, Potter." McGonagall said, handing over a sheet of parchment. "Beginning now, you will be attending third level charms and fourth level transfiguration. The rest of your schedule with remain as it was."

McGonagall's mouth thinned into a narrow line as she finished, and Arya wondered if other professors hadn't agreed to placement test her ahead of her grade. Snape for one would never let her skip ahead, though Arya had been hoping that Quirrell would test her so that she could jump ahead in Defense; as her favorite subject she was correspondingly disappointed in how those classes had been going compared to her lessons at home. Quirrell just didn't seem to know how to teach!

The professor left, and Arya studied her new schedule as she ate, Neville peering over her shoulder to look as well. Where she normally had transfiguration with the others, she now had charms two times a week, and there were two free periods where she normally had charms on Tuesdays and Thursday's. She would be doing a double period of transfiguration on her normally free Friday afternoons, and she groaned, thinking of a full day of potions, transfiguration, and occlemency. What a way to end a week!

At least she still had most of her classes with her friends, she thought as they parted ways after breakfast. She passed Professor Snape leaving the great hall, practically bumping shoulders in the bustle of leaving students, and Arya gave him a wave and a grin that she knew he'd never return, and was rewarded by his exasperated eye-roll as they passed. He was tucking his wand back into his pocket, and Arya saw him join Quirrell along the corridor, the Defense professor looking none too happy with the company. Arya shook her head at the unlikely due, wondering why she so often saw them together when their dislike of each other was so evident.

Though she was very tall for her age and gender, she felt dwarfed and awkward as she entered the third year charms classroom. Several Slytherins she didn't know were giving her weird looks, and she settled on a bench near the middle of the room, not wanting to seem too eager, nor look like she was trying to hide in the back.

Her uneasiness faded as Fred and George entered, caught sight of her, and split into identically evil smiles. Arya covered her own smirk as she pretended to scratch her nose, and charmed the bench on either side of her as the twins made a beeline toward her, looking all too eager to begin her hazing. She'd suspected that they wouldn't let her transition into their class without a slew of good natured pranks, and had prepared accordingly.

They reached her at the same time, each clapping a hand to her back as they began to sit on either side of her.

"Well Miss Potter, think you're ready to" Fred began.

"-join the big boys?" George finished.

Arya opened her mouth as if to respond, but no answer would have been heard as the twins plopped downed beside her, due to the loud sounds of farting coming from each of them as they sat.

Arya clapped a hand to her nose, though there was no smell, and managed to act outraged without breaking out laughing.

"Bloody hell, you two couldn't take that outside? What did you eat for breakfast, rotten eggs?" She waved her hand in front of her nose and enjoyed their looks of mystification and the laughter from around the room.

George sniffed the air experimentally, looking confused, as if he might believe that it had been him, if only he could smell the evidence of it in the air. Fred was looking at her with an impressed expression, and she kept her face carefully blank as professor Flitwick called the class to attention, the twin's chance of hazing her coming to an end in the confusion of the moment. It took them until the middle of the lesson to realize that the charm stuck around after the initial burst, releasing enormous farting sounds each time they shifted too much in their seats. Being who they were, they immediately made a game of it, and by Flitwick's expression, he was used to such disturbances from the twins.

Arya enjoyed the lesson, for once having to pay more attention than usual, and she even managed to slip a fragment of a dung-bomb into George's bag as the lesson ended. That subtle stench, combined with the farting charm that had attached itself to the seat of their trousers from the bench, would make it all the more believable for their next lesson. She'd have to think of something knew for them by Wednesday when they had their next class together.

She should have known better than to expect them to wait that long for retaliation, however; by the end of the day she had blocked three minor hexes that came whenever she passed them in the hallways, and had somehow picked up a charm on the bottom of her shoes that squeaked like she was trodding on field mice. The sound was particularly grating, and had caused Misses Norris to chase her down the length of the fourth floor corridor after lunch, meowing frantically.

Arya resolved to put long lasting burp potion into their morning pumpkin juice the next day, and retreated to lick her injured pride.

* * *

That night, as she was preparing to go to sleep, the thought occurred to her that she should check her clothes over for hidden charms that the twins might have thought to place there. It was what she'd do, - put a time release stipulation on a spell and attach it a piece of their clothing. That way when it went off, she could be well out of range.

She laid out her outfit on her bed and began to wave her wand over it, muttering the charm under her breath. She hadn't managed to perfect non-verbal magic yet, though she could do it sometimes. Hermione had come to stand beside her, peering down at the clothes on the bed curiously. None of the items lit up to indicate that they had been tinkered with, and unless the twins knew how to ward their spells from detection, she was confident they hadn't tampered with her clothes. She was about to lower her wand to end the spell when Hermione gasped, causing Arya to jump and lose her concentration.

"What?!" She asked.

"You're hair tie! I think it was starting to glow!"

Arya's eyes widened, and she whipped her braid over her shoulder, roughly tugging the hair band off of the end of it and tossing it down on the bed. She repeated the spell, and the band began to glow strongly.

Arya was impressed. A hair tie was a small target to hit, not something she would have tried to do herself.

She scrambled around the bed to her discarded book bag, and rummaged around inside until she found the defense book that her revealing charm had come from. It had been a Christmas gift from Tonks, and Arya hadn't mastered the rest of the spell she had used; Part two would tell her how long the spell had been there, and part three would reveal what spell it was. It was enough beyond her grade level that she wasn't sure she could manage it right away, but once she explained it to Hermione, the two girls put their heads together to figure it out.

The illustrated and moving diagrams of wand movements on the textbook pages were small, and they were at it for some time, muttering quietly and moving their hands, trying to get it right. The other occupants of the room ignored them, used to the two of them sitting together over one book or another, lost to the rest of the world.

By eleven pm they were ready to try it, and by eleven thirty, when everyone else was asleep, they finally got it right.

The band flashed red sixteen steady times as Arya completed the second incantation, and Hermione consulted the book. "Sixteen and hours ago… let's see, that puts timing around seven thirty this morning."

"What?" Arya asked, almost forgetting to keep her voice down. "That can't be right, I didn't jinx the twins until after Charms. Maybe I messed this up."

She repeated the charm, and again in flashed sixteen times. Arya's heart sank to her stomach, and she got a very queasy feeling in her gut. Hermione had picked up on her sudden unease, and she closed the book and waited silently for Arya to continue.

Arya raised her wand, heart beating too fast for comfort, and began the third phase. The band glowed blue to indicate a passive charm was present, and then changed hues to a faint yellow. Hermione consulted the chapter under charms, but Arya already knew what it meant. Tonks had said that tracking charms glowed faintly yellow, it was something Moody had apparently used on her a lot in the early days of her training, until she had thought to check for them. Tracking charms were easily spotted by the experienced auror, and never lasted beyond a few days, or for very great distances. They were useless for most real world situations, but within the confines of a school, and with regular application...

Hermione came to the same conclusion a moment later, but Arya had already sprung into motion, opening her dresser drawers and scattering the contents across her bed and floor.

Lavender poked her head out of her curtains at the disturbance, but Arya ignored her, instead brandishing her wand over the entire mess and muttering quietly. Hermione drew in a startled breath and raised a hand over her mouth as slowly, one by one, items of clothing began to glow red. The light was incredibly faint, the magic indicating the residue of spells rather than their presence. Arya began phase two, and one by one they began to flash. The flashing didn't stop, little flickers of red lights from shirts, socks, cloaks and trousers lighting up the room. They didn't bother trying to count the flashes. Arya began phase three; blue softly illuminated Arya's horrified face, and then the faintest of yellow light was emanating from the contents of her wardrobe.

Arya finally met Hermione's eyes from across the four poster bed. "Do you believe someone's been following me now?" She asked.

Hermione looked down and the dozens of glowing lights, and nodded slowly. Someone was following her friend. Someone, judging by the items scattered across the room, had been following her for months.


	53. Chapter 53

**A/N. Hey, I'm still alive! **

**My semester is keeping me busy, and writing is harder away from home (I'm twelve hours away from my husband, home, and kitties finishing my degree), so have a little pity on my poor, homesick self. **

**Okay, enough whining from me! Thank you for reading and to those of you who review, I hope you enjoy your update! **

Chapter 53

Friday Evening, Early April

* * *

Arya sat still and silent on a hard wooden seat in Snape's small dungeon office, eyes closed and breathing evenly; in her mind, however, she was racing through the air on her broom during Quiditch practice, mid-way through adding her last week into her Liar's Palace. The movements were recreated truthfully from her memories, the cool spring air on her face, the sound of Wood barking directions at his team. It was the recollection of her emotions and feelings, her motivations, that she altered in her mind; a perfect blending of truth and lies built to mislead an invading mind. A false memory that wouldn't hold up to scrutiny would have been useless.

Arya let the Quiditch memory fade, and moved on to her last day of classes.

In the present moment, Professor Snape sat behind his desk in front of her in a matching uncomfortable seat, paying her little heed as he worked through a large pile of papers in front of him. The messy scrawl of first years made him rub his temples as a slight headache threatened to distract him, and his quill of red ink moved steadily down the parchment, marking mistakes and writing corrections. Malfoy's paper was decent, if not particularly inspired, but his friends Crab and Goyle gave every indication of having troll heritage in their ancestry. Could they not even be bothered to read the material before attempting to do their homework? He marked them with passing grades anyway; it would not do to embarrass Slytherin in public, he'd meet with them privately and force them to redo the abysmal work.

He flipped through the parchment, and eventually made it to the Gryffindor essays. Granger's was technically perfect, as always, her neat small writing packing the entire sheet with information, making Snape squint in the torchlight. He did so wish that the girl wouldn't pack three parchment rolls worth of extra information into each assignment, as the last thing he wanted to do was spend _more _of his time grading essays on the properties of coughing solutions. He considered down-grading it out of annoyance, but glanced up as Arya shifted in her seat. The girl settled back down into her meditation, and Snape drew his attention back to the task at hand. Had he not packed all the knowledge he could into his favorite assignments as a student, just as Granger did? He grimaced and gave it the mark it deserved.

The next one was Weasley's. It was decent, about at the level of Malfoy's work, but the boy's handwriting truly was atrocious. He marked it and moved on the Longbottom boys work. He felt the customary ball of emotions well up in his gut at the sight of the name in the corner of the paper; anger, guilt, pity. He forced it down, because he knew it was not entirely rational to dislike the boy as he did. Why couldn't the Dark Lord have chosen that cowering child instead of Arya? He bit down on the inside of his cheek, keeping his face expressionless out of force of habit, and marked the paper as it deserved. The boy had been as good as orphaned anyway. Could he have done more to have stopped that, if he had not let his grief consume him?

The last paper in the stack was Arya's, containing exactly the information required, laid out in precise detail in her neat hand. Snape raised an eyebrow. She had not gone into depth with the theory behind the workings of the potion's ingredients, though Snape knew her to be capable of doing more than she had. He gave it an E, but wrote in the margins that he expected more from her in the future. Just because he wouldn't let her test into advance grades didn't mean he didn't expect more from her than her classmates.

He finished with the first years' work and set it aside, pulling a stack of third year parchments toward him instead. He looked up before he could begin, however, and could tell that the girl was beginning to come out of her trance-like state.

He quickly affixed another tracking spell to her trainers; he must have cast that spell a thousand times over the last few months.

She sighed and opened her eyes, squinting at the glare of the torches and craning her neck to the sides as she stretched.

"I'm done, Professor." she said through a yawn.

Snape set down his quill and stood up, rounding the desk the stand in front of her. "I expect you to not let yourself get so far behind again. I care not how tired your little flying lessons make you, this is of far greater importance, understand?"

Arya nodded, looking down at the ground, shame faced. She was likely not as remorseful as she seemed.

"I understand, Professor."

"Good. Let me review your work. I'll require you to show me the trail you've placed."

Arya nodded, though she rubbed at the back of her neck, obviously worn out. Perhaps he should not push her so hard, but… no, it was necessary. She didn't have the luxury of being coddled.

Arya had long been capable of laying the foundations of her liar's palace without his aid, but that was not the real reason their lessons continued. They met because he was trying something new; his conversation with Dumbledore months before had begun the process, and he had finally hashed out a method that he hoped would prevent the girl from getting lost in her own mind.

He was helping her to build a ladder, a way out of her own deceptions, a breadcrumb trail hidden amid her blend of truth and lies, leading the way back to her center. The idea had been his invention, never tried before because it had never before been necessary. He was an adult, with a clear certainty of who he was; he'd never before fallen into believing his own lies. But Arya was a child, creating in her mind an extensive world of lies, and the danger that presented was unprecedented. And so he had set her to building reminders into her false memories. Unknown and insignificant to anyone other than herself, she should be able to follow them out of the palace if she ever lost herself in it completely.

Snape felt slightly sick, like the taste of stomach bile just barely threatening to bubble into his throat. He was far from certain that this would work, if the worst should happen; He wasn't certain that the girl grasped the true danger implicate in what he taught her.

She let him delve her mind, and he withdrew after mere moments, satisfied with what she showed him.

"Good. You're dismissed for the evening."

She nodded with relief, and bid him goodnight with a tired smile, making her way out of the office. She was the only person he knew that ever smiled at him.

He gave her a few moments head start, staring idly at the empty doorway through which she'd left, and then left his office as well, using his tracking spell to follow the girl to her dorm.

* * *

Arya walked quickly from the dungeons, almost breaking into a jog as she rounded the torch lit corridors, pulling the Marauder's Map from within the pockets of her cloak. She had spent much of her time since discovering the tracking spells trying to locate their source. It had taken her longer than she'd assumed it would, considering the usefulness of the map in locating those around her.

There were just so many people at Hogwarts! But she had begun to suspect her potions and occlemency teacher. Snape showed up on the map near her almost as much as her closest friends did, and everytime she turned around she passed him in the corridors. And yet he always seemed to have a reason for crossing her path again and again, never sneaking or even seeming to pay her any attention. If she was studying in the Library, then he was just an aisle over, pouring over one book or another. If she snuck out at night, invisible, he was patrolling every corridor near whichever one she was in, but never the same one. When she returned to her dorm, he returned to his living quarters in the dungeons.

There were plenty of times when he wasn't near her, - when he was teaching, when she was in other classes, when quidditch practice stretched into the evenings. Often, when he wasn't inconspicuously near her, he was in the company of Professor Quirrel, walking the corridors together, or meeting up whenever the defense teacher left his office after hours.

Arya was far from certain; there were plenty of other people that showed up around her frequently. Students in her classes, teachers holding study sessions in the library at the same time as her.

Arya prodded the map to life, and saw Snape's dot right where she had left him in his office. Perhaps she had been wrong after all… She jumped as his dot began to move suddenly, steadily making its way toward her. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to walk normally down her usual route. It could still be a coincidence. Time for phase two.

She tucked the map away for the moment, and began to mutter under her breath, wishing that she had mastered non-verbal spill work already. Her muttering sounded loud in the empty stone hallways. Her trainers began to glow a bright red, and she nearly whooped with joy. The only tracking spell on her after she'd checked that afternoon had been on her hair tie.

She quickly pulled off the shoes, the stones cold beneath her socked feet, and then she tucked the hair tie with the fading charm on it into the right shoe, just in case. She flicked her wand again, feeling almost giddy with her success, and her trainers continued walking up the stairs at the end of the corridor without her.

_That_ was a little spell she'd learned off the twins, after they'd used it on her shoes when her feet had still been in them. She still hadn't gotten over the embarrassment of walking into the boys lavatory after her charms class, squawking in protest as her feet betrayed her. She would think of something equally horrific for them, just they wait…

She shook herself, and hurried around a nearby corner, pulling her cloak out of her bag as she went. She waited there, invisible, for several moments, almost pulling out the map again before Snape finally appeared, walking casually along the same route she had taken. She could almost believe that he just happened to be walking that same way, not following her at all… She took off after him anyway, keeping well back, her shoeless feet making no sound at all as she moved.

Near the corridor where the entrance to Gryffindor tower was located, the trainers veered down a side hallway, two turns ahead of Snape, and he paused for a moment, seemingly confused, before turning after them, away from the dorms.

That was confirmation in Arya's eyes, and she smiled grimly as she quickened her pace, getting to the Gryffindor portrait well ahead of her shoes and potions master. She took off her cloak and studied the map as she waited for her shoes to catch up with her from the detour she'd sent them on, watching Snape's dot following their exact path, always a few turns behind.

The empty trainers finally appeared, walking body-less toward her, and she scooped them up hurriedly, gave the password to the confused looking Fat Lady, and scrambled inside the common room before Snape rounded the last bend. Perhaps Snape would chalk her detour up to exhaustion, and assume she'd taken a wrong turn by accident.

She plopped down tiredly next to where Ron, Hermione, and Neville were sitting, Hermione with a book in her lap, and the boys playing exploding snap. It was a mark of how odd her friends thought her that no one questioned her about why she had walked from the dungeons in her socks.

Ron pulled out his chess set hopefully as the game of snap exploded in Neville's face, and Arya scooted over to sit across from him, digging her players out of her bag along with a small vial of hair growing potion for Neville to dab onto his face where his singed off eyebrows were supposed to be.

She had found the identity of her silent watcher. Now she just had to find out why her professor was stalking her every move.


	54. Chapter 54

**A/N. The only good part of being sick is having more time to write! Yay! (Cough, hack, snot...) Anyway, have another update. Thank you for reading, thank you for reviewing, you're welcome for writing, and goodnight!**

* * *

Chapter 54

Arya wasn't certain whether to be relieved or chagrined that her ominous and mysterious watcher now seemed to be no more than an overly stealthy babysitting detail.

She had thought over her discovery dozens of times, and could come up with no other solution. If Snape wanted to hurt her, he'd had amble opportunity during the last school year and had never tried, unless one counted a few nasty glares as violence.

She'd confided a bit to Hermione, who she thought she could trust not to look Snape directly in the eyes and think loudly about it. Hermione had worked her way to the same conclusion that Arya had; Snape must be following her movements in order to guard her, after that first Quidditch match that had almost ended with Arya splatted on pitch. She should have guessed after that that she wouldn't be allowed out of sight of one protective adult or another, and was half surprised that she never saw a dot with the name 'Sirius Black' guarding the door to her dorms at night.

Perhaps if someone had taken the time to explain the danger to her, she would have agreed to stay safe in her dorms at night, but no – she was being followed instead. The whole situation smelled of something Dumbledore would think up; she was not being restricted from poking her nose in the secret affairs going on at the castle, she was simply being protected from a distance as she did so. It was as if the headmaster wished to allow her to stretch her metaphorical legs on her own. He didn't let her in on any information, but nor did he stop her from finding out. And she _was _certain that Snape was acting according to Dumbledore's orders, otherwise Snape would have simply stuffed her in a safe corner and told her mind her own business.

The whole mess was infuriating, - and provoking.

Dumbledore must know that she had figured out the basics, and did nothing to stop her. Didn't that indicate that he wanted her to continue on? He had wanted her to work out the information about the hallows, all those years ago. He hadn't told her about the hurcruxes, but he'd never really reprimanded her for figuring that out either… She was left feeling confused.

She wished she could simply speak to the headmaster, but she had only ever seen him up at the head table over the last year.

She had grown to like him, to look up to him as he'd taught her and guided her before she'd started school, and now he hardly looked at her as she passed him in the great hall. He hadn't even stopped by for Christmas! Perhaps he felt the need to not show favoritism to her now that she was of school age, but just because she understood his reasoning didn't mean she couldn't miss him. She wanted some direction.

It was Saturday morning, and the sun was high enough in the sky to shine along the waters of the lake, wind causing the surface to rise in multitudes of tiny ripples, sparkling and shifting as she ran. It had rained on and off for the last week, and her feet splatted wetly with each stride. Mud had splattered up her legs from the impact, and her breath puffed out in short bursts; this was a longer run than she normally did. Arya thought better when she was moving. Some combination of the cool spring air and the tired ache in her muscles helped clear her mind and increase her focus.

Dumbledore wanted her to stretch out on her own. Splat, - her foot smacked the muddy trail. Snape would be one step behind her to keep her safe. Splat. Someone at Hogwarts was after the stone. Splat splat. Arya was going to find out whom.

Arya grinned slightly to herself as she reached that resolution. She wasn't even going to feel bad about poking her nose around anymore; Dumbledore had practically given her permission.

She increased her speed despite her protesting lungs and a stitch in her side. If she hurried she could catch Hagrid for a spot of tea before breakfast, and attempt to pick his brain about the philosopher's stone. He hadn't greeted her on her runs for several days. She wondered if the sorry business with the injured unicorns was keeping him too occupied to want to entertain company, but she was sure the incidents were connected somehow to the stone, and she wanted to find out if he'd learned anything new. She rounded a bend in the path and Hagrid's cabin came into view, the smoke from the chimney indicating that he was still inside.

She began to slow down, and as she shortened her strides, her right foot came down hard, sinking into a deeper patch of muck as the trail began a short decline; her foot stuck and she jerked off-balance, her trainer pulling free from the ground with the sound of a wet plunger being pulled out of a toilet. She swung her left foot around in an attempt to keep her balance, and instead of that one getting stuck, it slipped out from underneath her down the incline. She yelped loudly as she went down, twisting as she'd been taught to break a fall. She got her forearms out in front of her to absorb the worst of the impact, and rolled as she hit.

Tonks had made her practice falling dozens of times, and Arya had done as she was told. Tonks was, after all, an expert at falling down.

Unfortunately for her, her left leg had slid out sideways as if she was attempting to do the splits mid stride, and as she came to a halt on her back on the muddy ground, a searing pain from her inner thigh told her all was not well.

Arya groaned and turned her head to the side, spitting out a large lock of muddy red hair that had found its way into her mouth as she'd hit and rolled. She let her head fall back to the ground with a splat, and took stock of the pain; her arms stung a bit from the impact, her neck felt tense from her head jerking around, and the pain in her left leg hadn't diminished. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and prodded at her leg experimentally. Nothing seemed to be broken, though she wouldn't have been able to see any bruising under the muck adhered to her skin if it had been.

Likely she'd pulled a muscle in her thigh before even hitting the ground. She grumbled, gently easing up until she was standing, putting all of her weight onto her good leg, and spitting off to the side again. Her mouth still tasted like muck.

So long to her focus and clarity of mind, she thought, hobbling toward Hagrid's hut at a shambling pace. Perhaps she now looked like some type of magical mud monster that Hagrid would want to study; she could pry for information while he tried to determine her species. She grinned at the thought, and then grimaced and spat to the side again.

Did that mud taste a bit like rotten fish? Merlin, the overflow from the lake had probably contributed to that puddle. Gross.

By the time Arya got to Hagrid's front door, she'd found a large stick to help her wobble along, and had determined to be outraged that students weren't taught even the basics of healing at Hogwarts. The reasoning was the medical spells could only be practiced on humans, and the chances of mishaps were too high to teach underage witches and wizards; healing was a specialization to be pursued after completing school and coming of age.

That reasoning had sounded firm when she'd first been told that, but she was now having second thoughts, - She was eleven, and had at her fingertips dozens of spells that could do plenty of damage by intent. Healing at least had the chance of doing good if performed correctly, and all magic was dangerous. She was going to order some healing books as soon as she got back to her dorms. If no one wanted to teach her, she'd teach herself.

She raised a fist and pounded loudly on Hagrid's door. There was no answer. She tried to peer in the window, but the curtains were pulled tightly closed. She suddenly felt worried; was Hagrid sick?

"Hagrid?" she called loudly, pounding on the door again. "Are you alright in there?" still no answer.

"Hagrid, I took a fall on my run and pulled something, I could really use your help…" Hagrid might not open the door if _he_ was in trouble, but he had a heart the size of, well, a giant. No way would he leave her injured on his doorstep.

She was proven correct as the door swung open a second later, Hagrid's concerned face looming above her.

"Ary? Wha happened, you alright?" He took in her bedraggled appearance, and then proceeded to actually scoop her up off the ground, surprisingly gentle for his enormous size. She was deposited into a chair a moment later, Hagrid brandishing his pink umbrella that Arya had always suspected contained his wand. The mud fell off her in dried flakes until she was practically clean, and Hagrid swept them out the door by creating a breeze. "Yeh said you think yeh pulled somethin'? Where does it hurt? Might have to get yeh to the hospital wing, I ain't so good with healin' anything human, mind you."

Now that the mud was gone, Arya could see bruises forming on her arms and knees, but they didn't look bad. The ground had been rather soft, after all.

"I think I just pulled a muscle in my leg." She rubbed at her thigh, "It mostly just hurts to move it, and now that I'm holding still it feels better."

Hagrid grunted, inspecting her for signs of anything more serious. She lifted her knee up, and winced. Yep, definitely pulled a muscle.

"Ar', tha's alright then. Madame Pomfry will fix that up right quick. Yeh sure gave me a scare though, showin up lookin' like you'd crawled through the lake."

He shook his head at her and began fixing her a cup of tea, acting like he hadn't been ignoring her at the door now that she was inside. Arya nodded and wiped a drop of sweat off of her forehead; it was hot inside the cabin. A large fire was crackling in the hearth, despite the Spring day outside being only cool.

Hagrid set a hot cup of tea in front of her, and she wiped another streak of sweat from her face. Perhaps she was just acclimating from outside.

"Thanks Hagrid, I owe you. I think I was wearing half the mud of the grounds."

She took a sip of tea and regretted it immediately. She fanned a hand in front of her face, feeling flushed. Maybe it _wasn't_ just her; Hagrid was in short sleeves and had his hair pulled back off his neck.

"Couldn't crack a window, could you? Feels like dragon's breath in here."

Hagrid, oddly, jumped in his seat and glanced guiltily at the fire before regaining his composure.

"Er, nah… I've been liking it warmer in here." He wiped a large drop of sweat with the back of his hand as it dripped into his eyes, and Arya stared at him incredulously. Something very odd was going on here.

Hagrid was a dear friend, and an absolute genius with all types of creatures, but he was an abysmal actor.

Arya forced herself to slurp her steaming tea as Hagrid made nervous chit-chat, and refrained from pressing him for information on the unicorns or the stone, as he was obviously uncomfortable about something already. He offered to carry her back up to the castle, but she shook her head. He instead trimmed her large walking stick down to a more appropriate size, and Arya stood up gingerly to go.

Hagrid looked eager to be rid of her, and placed himself between her and the fire as he handed the staff over, practically shooing her towards the door. Arya accepted the staff and made as if to leave, but instead stumbled and then hopped as if to regain her balance, rounding an armchair blocking her view of the hearth, and then freezing.

Hagrid groaned, twisting his hands in fret.

"By Merlin's sweaty handkerchief, Hagrid, is that a Dragon's egg?"

* * *

Spring had always been Sirius's favorite season, but he had never, in all his life, partook in that seasonal activity that seemed to be so popular among both muggles and magical people all over the world, - namely gardening.

He knelt in the springy wet ground in front of his new house, taking bulbs of various plants from a basket that Kreacher was holding next to him, and sticking them hap-hazardly into the ground. Why on earth had he let Remus talk him into this again?

"You have your own lawn now, Sirius," Sirius mimicked under his breath, "it'll be good for you, Sirius, get you outdoors Sirius, away from all those reports, Sirius, just like you want! It's great for your mental health, Sirius, just give it a try!"

Sirius jabbed a gnarled and bulbous type of root that reminded him of Mad-eye's face into the ground and lumped a mound of dirt over it. He shuffled along to the right, Kreacher keeping a step behind him with the basket. Not too long ago, the elf would have either been gleeful or horrified to see his master rooting around in the dirt like a muggle gardener, but he had become accustomed to Sirius's odd behavior.

Kreacher was delivering his reports as he picked his way through the dirt behind Sirius, a long suffering but fond expression on his inhuman features. The change in the elf from years ago was truly something to be marveled at; he seemed almost a different person than either the cold, cruel figure from Sirius's childhood, or the mad, neglected creature he had found inhabiting Grimauld Place after being freed from prison.

The symbiotic bond between a house elf and his master was something Sirius had never given consideration to before he'd begun to notice the drastic changes to Kreacher as he'd served Sirius. It was hard to remember that he couldn't treat the elf as he would a human; a human he could blame for his treatment of him as a child, but an elf… Elves, if treated and cared for by their human families, took on their beliefs and became entirely loyal to them. Sirius's mother, in her own disturbed way, had treated Kreacher well. He was the perfect servant, unlike her children, and she had pampered him as one might a pet dog. It had been disturbing, and Sirius still felt an occasional surge of hatred for Kreacher sometimes, unable to keep the visceral emotions down when he recalled his childhood.

But Kreacher had changed as he'd served Sirius, the madness that being alone for so long had caused had faded, and the elf's crazed rantings had slowly ceased. He could now be heard repeating things Sirius had told him, echoing beliefs that would have horrified him while he'd served his mother.

A symbiotic relationship… Elves provided service, and the human families provided structure and care. It made him wonder about the wizarding families that abused their elves.

If a human provided abuse and neglect instead of structure and care, then the relationship between master and servant became parasitic instead of symbiotic. Wizarding lore was scattered with stories of ills befalling those who mistreated their elves, - Sirius had always taken them for moral parables. Now he wondered if there was more to it than that, if the elves that were poorly treated had in fact caused their master's downfalls.

An elf's magic was tied up in the bond between them and their masters, but they couldn't be forced to talk about it. Most wizards didn't give elf magic a second thought, why would they? They were mere servants.

Sirius smiled as he used his wand to create another row of holes. What a giant gap in wizarding understanding.

"What of the Malfoys?" Sirius asked, "Have you been able to follow their movements at the ministry?"

"A little, Master Sirius," Kreacher croaked in his deep voice, "they appear to be laying low for the time being. They may have gotten word that the department of Magical Law Enforcement means to begin raids in a few months. Lucious has made inquiries about various prices of magical artifacts to some of his old connections. Things of an unsavory nature."

"And you still can't enter the Manor?"

"No, Master Sirius. Their own elf protects them from my prying, though I doubt they are aware of the protection he provides for them." He sounded subtly angry, though Sirius wasn't sure if it was because he had failed to penetrate the protection on the manor or because the Malfoys undoubtedly abused their elf. "I will keep an eye out for an opening, if you wish."

"I do. What of Umbridge?"

"It is as you surmised before, Master Sirius. She works through a network of employees that she has either bought or threatened into submission. She claims to be working for the benefit of the minister, though often her schemes appear to be unknown to him. She is determined to undermine and discredit Alastar Moody; she works to provoke his suspicion and leaves him hints of threats from various sources, but never acts. The method is… effective. Moody reacts, and then nothing happens. She then draws attention to his apparently erratic and paranoid behavior. He is beginning to lose influence in the Auror department, and if nothing is done it is likely that he will be forced into retirement sooner rather than later."

Sirius sucked in a breath, impressed despite himself; That was downright devious. Sirius sent a patronous to fetch Tonks from the house across the lawn, seeing the need to alert Tonks of the situation before it could progress farther. Moody was erratic enough on his own without provocation.

Tonks strolled out to meet him a few moments later, looking as if she'd just crawled out of bed. Apparently he and Kreacher were the only ones crazy enough to be up before eight on a Saturday. Perhaps he could have let her sleep in on her day off…

"Wotcher, Sirius." She yawned, "Couldn't have waited a few more hours? I was having I right good snuggle when your dog burst through the door." She eyed Kreacher. "Fetch me a cup of tea?" she tried.

Kreacher gave her the side eye treatment and didn't obey. He was supposed to be bound to obey anyone in the family as long as they didn't contradict Sirius's orders, but he never obeyed Tonks.

She sighed, "Well, it was worth a shot." she smothered another yawn.

Sirius filled her in on the situation with Moody, and she became alert immediately, digging for all the details. Sirius had Kreacher give her all the names involved and the individual actions taken, and Tonks began to look furious.

"How dare they…" she muttered, "He's the best bloody Auror in the department and that smarmy toad wants him gone. She must guess that we're onto her, Sirius. I'm too junior to be much of a threat, but he could bring her down, that's why she's after him. I have to go fill him in." She began to turn away. "Thanks for getting me, tell Remus I should be home for lunch!"

Tonks strode toward the road to cross the wards to apparate, all traces of sleepiness gone. Sirius could almost pity the toad, but… no. After some consideration he decided he couldn't pity her at all.

Kreacher finished his reports and waited to be dismissed for the day, but Sirius paused, sitting back on his heels in the dirt.

"Kreacher, I'm not angry, but… Why is it that you don't obey Dora? I know Andromeda was disowned, but so was I and that hasn't mattered."

Kreacher was silent for a moment, and Sirius wondered if his question had strayed into the elf magic that Kreacher couldn't be compelled to talk about.

"The bond of obedience is between an elf and his human family, Master Sirius." He finally said. "The changeling has no hold on me." Sirius looked into Kreacher's dark, inhuman eyes, and nodded slowly. "May I be dismissed, Master Sirius?"

Sirius nodded again, and Kreacher disappeared with a crack that rent the cool spring air. Sirius sat still for a long moment, looking to where Tonks had vanished across the property line, off to warn her mentor of the plots being hatched against him.

Changeling, Kreacher had called her.

That, Sirius decided, turning back to his planting, was one bit of information he wasn't ever going to bring up again.

* * *

**A/N. It occurs to me that not everyone shares my interest or knowledge in mythology and folklore, so I'll add an aside here. A changeling was thought to be a infant that was switched at birth with a fay child, and there are various versions and exlpanations as to why this is. I don't necessarily mean to say that Tonks was switched at birth,- I think the possibilities are endless in the mixing of magical soceity and the muggle world throughout history. **

**What fairy tales, mythologies, and religions were brought about by wizards and witches, and various magical creatures indeverantly mixing with muggles? A shape-shifter witch or wizard born to muggle parents could have been the very origin of the changelings of folklore. And if your very shape and blood can change on a whim or a mood, than what are your blood ties to your parents? Not there, really. **

**Andromeda and Ted are her parents, but I always wondered why J.K added that bit of information about Kreacher not obeying Tonks in book five, and that was part of my reasoning for adding this part. **


	55. Chapter 55

**It's ALIVE!**

** Hey, I'm back. I graduated from college in May, moved home, planted my garden, painted the house, bing-watched Parks and Rec, went out of state for Memorial Day, and finally settled down to write this chapter. It isn't very long, I'm very rusty, the next chapter will likely be huge and exciting enough to make up for this. **

* * *

Chapter 55

Sirius was oddly proud of the little plants sprouting up in his new garden, though Remus had commented on the gardens total lack of organization. He, Tonks and Remus were up in the loft of Sirius's house, and Sirius was gazing fondly out the window at his fledgling garden, conveniently forgetting how opposed to it he'd been a few weeks ago. Remus was pouring over Sirius's desk, catching himself up on the current political situation, and Tonks was stretched out on the floor with the cat on her chest.

"So the Toad has denied any and all involvement in the plot against Mad-Eye," she said, hoisting the cat into the air as he meowed in protest, "but her underlings might be persuaded to talk eventually. Enough of it has come to light that an official apology to Mad-Eye has been issued, but we're getting opposition from within the department to launch an inquiry at her."

Sirius grunted in frustration, turning his attention to his cousin and his cat, who looked as if he might scratch her nose off in a moment.

"At least Moody has been vindicated, and the provocation has stopped."

Tonks hummed in agreement, though she was still frowning in disapproval of her departments divided stance. Their conversation was interrupted by Remus, who was looking up from Kreature's reports for the first time since sitting down to read them.

"Is this report correct?" He asked, waving a page in the air, "Malfoy has withdrawn his opposition of our allies in the Wizengamot?"

Sirius nodded, and Tonks sat up and reached for the report, which her soon-to-be husband handed to her. She read it quickly, her expression darkening.

"I don't understand," she finally said, "he's been strongly positioned for years, and he's backing off now? I thought we haven't been able to get anything solid enough to force him down."

"We haven't," Sirius said, "but we have forced many of his contacts into retreat, and his old pals have been forced out of positions of power. He's likely backing down to lay in wait of the right opportunity to strike back at us. He's never liked to act alone, and he's smart enough to act defeated in order to avoid public humiliation or political scandal."

"Either that, or he's up to something even more subtle…" Remus muttered, and Sirius shot him a curious look. "Think about it, Sirius; Malfoy really hates to lose. His family is known for staying in the background until one political side had begun to overwhelm their opposition, at which point they declare their loyalty to those who come out on top. For all he knows Voldemort is dead, never to return, and we're coming into power."

Tonks pulled a disgusted face. "You think he's capable of putting his pride aside and aligning himself with us? Because I don't see that happening, even if we would accept him."

"Maybe not standing with us, but not standing against us either." Remus replied. "And we must remember that the sins of the father are not placed on his children; if Lucius's son is not taught to hate us, we might see some change for the better in the future generations."

Sirius was now making a face similar to the one Tonks was making. "You might be right that he's maneuvering to avoid opposing us politically, but as for the other stuff, I'll never trust a Malfoy."

"Hmmm," Remus hummed, turning back to the desk, "just as I remember many a young Gryfinndor saying in our Hogwarts years_; I don't care what house you're in, I'll never trust a Black._"

Sirius flinched uncomfortably, and Remus continued. "If I remember correctly, it was James who set those people straight, by wand point occasionally. Perhaps you should ask Arya what she thinks of the matter."

Tonks was nodding thoughtfully from the floor. "He's right, Sirius. I got the same treatment at school, when my classmates learned I was your cousin, that Bellatrix was my aunt. Just because a family is rotten doesn't' mean we get to judge the children by the parent's actions."

Sirius let his breath out in a frustrated puff, and forced himself to unclench his hands. "Fine, you're right, and I'll try to keep an open mind. But kids who learn hate at their parent's knees don't usually stray far from their beliefs. Andromeda and I made it out of that life because we met the right people at the right time and that allowed us to see past our upbringing. Of the five of us, only two made it out in time to avoid the dark mark."

Remus and Tonks nodded solemnly, and went back to their previous pursuits.

Bored and looking for a way to lift his mood, Sirius took a small mirror from his pocket and wandered downstairs while he waited to see if Arya took his call. It had been awhile since he'd talked with her at length, and since her Saturday was free of classes he hoped she'd be able to chat.

The mirror stopped flashing and his daughters face appeared in the depths of the small surface.

"Arya! How you holding up? Aren't exams in a few weeks?"

"Exams?! Right! Yes, two weeks… Doing fine." She sounded very distracted, and Sirius heard who he thought was Hermione in the background, making destressed noises at the mention of exams.

"Are you alright? Is something happening, because I can be down there in seconds-"

"What? No, everything is fine! I'm just distracted is all, with exams, and no one has found anything out about the unicorns, it's almost the end of the year and no news about the Stone either, and I've had no time to think about who's behind all this because of the dragon, and…" She seemed to realize she'd said too much, because she fell silent and stared at him with a chagrined look at his horrified face.

Sirius managed to unlock his jaw, and gave a strangled shout of "DRAGON? What do you mean, DRAGON?"

Hermione's panicked face appeared over Arya's shoulder. "Just a little one mister Black, sir, just a baby!"

Arya was now nodding vigorously. "It really is just a baby, barely breathing fire at all!" Half of her right eyebrow was singed off, and some of Hermione's hair looked charred. Sirius opened his mouth to reply, by she rolled over him, "And we're getting rid of it! Tonight."

Sirius took a deep breath to steady his fraying nerves. "And how exactly are you getting rid of a baby dragon?"

A lot of people would pay a lot of money to get their hands on a dragon young enough to subdue, but they were also the type of people one would find skulking down Knockturn alley. If his daughter was planning on meeting with a dragon dealer, he was putting his foot down.

Arya seemed to read his mind, even though he knew that was impossible through the mirror. "It's nothing shady, Sirius! Do you really think I'd sell a dragon to someone who would chain it up to guard their treasure, or drain its blood for potions? We contacted Ron and Ginny's brother in Romania and arranged a drop with some of his colleagues. Ron doesn't even know, since he refuses to learn occlemency…"

Did that mean Arya was teaching her friends? He shouldn't be surprised by that, nor by the fact that Hermione had apparently progressed further than the others.

Hermione was nodding along with her, and Sirius relaxed a bit. Friends of Charlie Weasleys weren't likely a bad sort, and the dragon would go to a sanctuary amongst its own kind instead of into an abuser's hands.

"Great. How are you smuggling it to the smugglers?

"A very steady, fireproof crate, the invisibility cloak, and the tunnel under the whomping willow. They wanted to meet on the top of the astrology tower, but how in Merlin's name they expected to just fly through Hogwarts boundaries is beyond me… And hauling a dragon through a heavily patrolled castle didn't sound fun either. We had to use an express post owl to get the change of plans to them in time."

More relaxed now that he knew the full story and was remaining calm, Arya began to chat of more mundane topics, and it was now Sirius who was a bit distracted. He didn't ask who the dragon belonged to, because he was sure there could only be one suspect (bloody hell Hagrid, a dragon?) and he was also wondering if Dumbledore had his fingers in the pie. Everyone knew you couldn't just fly into Hogwarts with no invitation, and only the Headmaster had full power over the castles protection. If those dragon workers thought they could fly to the Astrology tower, it was likely Dumbledore had given them permission.

He had never figured out how that man knew absolutely everything that went on in that castle.

* * *

Later that night, as the last light drained from the sky over the castle and stars began to appear in the sky, Dumbledore stood at his office window looking down at the dark figures stirring outside of Hagrid's cabin. With the charm on his half-moon spectacles improving his vision he could make out Arya Potter and Hermione Granger next to the unmistakable figure of Hagrid, who appeared to be crying over the slightly smoking crate on the ground.

Dumbledore's heart went out to the man. Few people he knew had the capacity for caring the way that Hagrid did, and he always grew attached to those the rest of society feared or rejected. But it could not be helped; dragons could not live in wooden cabins, and they needed the care of their own kind to flourish. At least with this arrangement he would not be punished for letting his tender heart get the best of him, and Dumbledore felt proud that Arya had come up with such a clean solution.

Both the girls and the dragon crate disappeared under the cloak, and Dumbledore watched the grass flatten along the path to the willow, which froze in contradiction to the breezy night air. He sighed, turning away from the window, and spoke to the portraits on the wall.

"Quirrell's current position?"

"Library, sir!" Piped up a former headmistress. "Portraits report that Minerva has eyes on him."

"Good, good… He will likely not make a move until I leave the castle. If I do not come up with a believable excuse to vacate the premise soon the curse will no doubt move things along for us. I will schedule a disturbance for after exams, in case it is noisier than planned. Minerva would never forgive me if I disrupted the finale testing. Anything else going on that I should know about?"

He settled behind his desk and clasped his fingers gently under his chin as the chatter from the portraits filled the room. Most was information that was irrelevant, and much of it petty. To him it was invaluable. He knew the gossip, the friendships and rivalries that filled his halls, he deduced rumors from facts and sorted the information in his mind. He was headmaster of Hogwarts, and to him that meant more than running the school, - it meant that he was guider and protector to every child left in his care.

If his heart twisted because he was letting one student and her friends run into more danger than any of the others combined, his head at least knew that it was necessary.


	56. Chapter 56

**A.N Real life is very distracting, as I believe I've mentioned before. I've had this half finished for a few weeks now, and finally got around to writing the rest today. Hopefully there will be less of a wait between now and the next chapter!**

**Thank you for reading and reviewing, enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 56**

"I still can't believe I snuck out of bounds in the dead of night with a _dragon_." Hermione moaned, face down on her bed in the girl's dorms.

Arya grinned at her reluctant accomplice as she wriggled out of the dark colored clothes she'd used for sneaking and into her pajamas for the night. A red star that Arya thought might be Mars was shining brightly in the sky outside the window, and soft snores from the surrounding four-posters meant they had relative privacy as they settled in for the night.

"Come on Hermione! How many people can say they've handled a baby dragon in their lives? It was beautiful…"

Hermione made a disbelieving sound and raised her head to stare at her incredulously, "Beautiful? It almost bit your arm off the other day. You weren't calling it beautiful then."

"Alright, I'll grant you that it was also terrifying, but still. And the dragon hide gloves protected my arm just fine."

Hermione rolled over onto her back and brought the pillow over her face with her. "And that's another thing; handling a baby dragon with gloves made of a dead dragon's skin? That is so not okay!"

Arya grimaced in agreement but offered her argument anyway, "They're the only thing strong enough to withstand the teeth! Besides Hagrid's skin, I suppose, and they don't sell gloves made of that."

Hermione chucked the pillow at her and Arya caught it, laughing openly at her bookish friends' reaction. Despite Hermione's complaints, both girls slept better that night than they had in weeks, knowing that Norberta (That is _not _a boy dragon, Hagrid, didn't you check under the tail?) was miles away already.

Ron and Neville had not been oblivious to the strange behavior of their two best friends, but no amount of prying in the following weeks yielded any specific answers. Hermione, growing tired of fielding question after question about their mysterious disappearances over the dragon weeks, finally snapped and told Ron they were having 'Girl Problems' and not to be so nosy.

This outburst had the desired effect of stopping the questions and subtle prying, but had unintended results as well. Ron and Neville had fallen awkwardly quite, and then retreated to have a hushed discussion in the corner of the common room; from that point onward the boys stepped lightly around the girls when they were the least bit out of sorts, and kept offering them chocolate frogs for no apparent reason.

Hermione was mystified and a bit pleased with this change of behavior, until Arya explained that the boys had probably interpreted 'girl problems' to mean that one or both of them had begun their menses. Hermione had turned tomato red in the face, and smacked the next chocolate frog that Ron offered her out of his hand.

Arya, for one, was happy to accept free candy while they began to buckle down in preparation for final exams. Hermione had drawn them all up study schedules, which Ron only whined about a little. Neville struggled with Transfiguration and Potions the worst, and Arya spent much of the study sessions coaching him. Trying to get Ron to memorize History of Magic was a daily struggle, but Hermione did her best to badger him into putting in the work.

Arya struggled with her own personal studies instead of her academic work; even with the distraction of the dragon gone, she felt no closer to figuring out who Dumbledore was luring in with the Stone. Her best bet was to work the angle that seemed most likely – someone in the employ of Voldemort.

The Stone was desirable for anyone, but to risk making an attempt on it under Dumbledore's nose? It seemed that the power of the stone to restore health to it's possessor would make it the perfect tool to return Voldemort to power, as Sirius had always said would happen one day. She had also gotten into the restricted section of the library on the pretense of checking out an advanced Transfiguration book, and looked up the use of Unicorn blood while she was in there.

She was now having nightmares involving dark figures drinking unicorn blood, and waking up with headaches in the morning.

She had made a list of staff members who she didn't know or trust, and spent much of her time in the library looking through old newspaper articles for any suspicious history, and was quickly becoming frustrated with the search. She now knew that the Divination teacher had been arrested several times for public intoxication and disturbances, and that the Ancient Runes professor had once been involved in a sex scandal with a famous politician. Neither bit of information made them more likely to be a dark witch involved with Voldemort, and she frankly would have been happier to not know about their past indiscretions.

Quirrell was barely out of school himself and had apparently suffered from extreme anxiety while in the field, causing him to take the safer position of professor. Disheartening as it was to know that your DADA professor was incompetent in his work, Arya felt more embarrassed on his behalf than suspicious.

She had worked through everyone other that Hagrid, Minerva, Sprout, Flitwick, and Snape, all of whom she had discounted because of their close alliance with Dumbledore. She was considering looking into them anyway when she'd had a sickening realization; what reason did she have to believe that he wasn't working through a student instead of a staff member? It did seem unlikely, but perhaps that made it all the more brilliant. Staff were vetted, students were not. How easy would it have been for a dark witch or wizard to enchant an older student and set them to doing the dirty work. Perhaps they were being impersonated using polyjuice potion, or possessed with dark magic, or perhaps a child of a former Death Eater had taken the assignment willingly? The possibilities were endless, and she suddenly felt foolish for thinking she'd be able to figure it out.

Arya reluctantly turned her attention back to her studies as exams neared, and attempted to put the matter of the Stone to the back of her mind. Despite her best efforts to refocus on her exams, Arya began to feel a mounting tensions as the end of tern drew near. She couldn't escape the nagging feeling that something major was about to happen, - something she should have been able to see, but couldn't.

Her headaches were growing worse, and closer together. Snape had noticed a lack of her usual skill during their occlemency lessons due to her scattered concentration, and had berated her soundly for her lapse. Renewing her occlemency efforts did seem to help clear her headaches, but when she fell asleep her control vanished- dreams of dying unicorns, of flashing green lights, and of high shrill laughter haunted her nights.

Dumbledore had taught her not to ignore the subtle vibrations of magic that had little to do with fancy wand work and incantations, and more to do with the energy and currents of the world around them. "Magic", Dumbledore had explained once, "leaves traces and runs deeper than most people know".

His words came back to her when she began to doubt herself, and that Wednesday night during her astronomy exam as she gazed up at Mars, the star of war, shining brighter than she'd ever seen her self-doubt melted away. The tension between her shoulder blades was not paranoia but a herald of some dark force mounting in the world. She felt scared.

It was during the final day of exams that inspiration suddenly struck, and she felt incredibly stupid for not having thought of it sooner; she didn't have to figure out who was hunting the stone by researching everyone at Hogwarts. She simply needed to slip on her invisibility cloak and stake out the third floor corridor.

Ron and Neville were exhausted by the emotional stress of exams, and Hermione was bubbling over with excitement and anticipation of getting her marks back, even though that wouldn't happen for a month. Arya was willing to talk over the questions with her, but her mind was planning her night of watching; she'd want to bring snacks, and the marauders map… hmm, perhaps she could just watch the map from the dorm. But no, there was no way she'd stay awake on a comfortable couch, and she wanted to be there, to see it with her own eyes. She might be too young to be a true player in the events that were unfolding, but she felt a driving need to witness.

As the rest of the school celebrated the end of exams that afternoon, Arya felt removed from them, tense as the Spring sun shone down on her as they sat around the lake. Her mind was on the third floor corridor, and what lay under that trap door.

For the first time that term Dumbledore was absent from the head table during dinner. Arya's heart beat faster, and her gut told her that tonight was the night; whoever was after the Stone didn't have much time left in which to act, and if Dumbledore was out of the way… She left dinner early and stopped by the kitchens for supplies before heading up to her dorm. She passed Snape in the hallway and waved at him cheerily, causing him to roll his eyes.

She also passed Quirrell, who stuttered a nervous hello to her after she greeted him cheerfully. It was a shame he was such a poor teacher because he seemed nice enough. Perhaps the infamous curse on the Defense position would shepherd in someone better suited next year.

Back in her dorm, she stuffed her snacks into her backpack with the map and cloak, her mum's wand into her sock, checked her own wand in its wrist holster, and then laughed at herself because she wasn't planning on using either. As was almost routine now, she waved her wand over herself and recited the incantation to detect charms on her clothing. Her cloak and her trainers lit up and indicated recent tracking charms, and she rolled her eyes at Snape's over protective nature; wasn't one usually enough?

She shrugged out of her cloak in favor of her more comfortable casual attire now that exams were done with, but left her trainers on. Let him be confused that she was in two places at once for a while, she was sure he'd figure it out eventually. The thought of making him stand around all night pretending he didn't know she was out of bed was amusing.

She played a game of chess in the common room with Ron when the others got back from dinner, and tried to wait patiently for the room to clear out. She lost spectacularly due to her mind being elsewhere, and pulled out a ridiculously large and onerous book about goblin uprisings as the others began to yawn. Even Hermione grew tired and said goodnight soon after the others went upstairs.

Arya shoved the book back into her bag in case she got bored and wanted to keep reading, and slipped out of the portrait hole without any of the other students noticing. She came and went often enough than anyone would assume she was off on one of her nightly wanderings, and none but Percy ever told her off for those anymore.

She slipped the cloak on in a deserted corridor and made her way to the third floor. Being forbidden, it was deserted. She pressed her ear against the door and heard the growling breaths of Hagrid's giant dog Fluffy. The lock was still secure; no one had gone through yet.

She settled down near the entrance to the forbidden corridor and watched the last stragglers of the day pass by. She yawned as time passed, broke out the biscuits she'd packed in her bag and activated the marauders map.

Dumbledore was nowhere to be found, which strengthened her determination. Snape was still in his office, which gave her pause. She'd fully expected him to be a corner or two down from her, keeping watch as he had been all year. If one tracking spell said she was safe in bed and the other said she was wandering a forbidden corridor at night, she knew which one she'd believe.

She suddenly felt uneasy.

There was a dot moving toward her along the third floor, and she brushed stray biscuit crumbs off the map as she squinted at it. It seemed blurry, and she wasn't sure whether to blame the poor lighting or to wonder if she needed glasses. It came into focus for a moment, and she saw that it was Professor Quirrell.

Perhaps he was making his way back to his rooms at the end of the day, or it was his turn to patrol the corridor. Or perhaps she'd vastly underestimated her stuttering DADA professor.

Her heart beat a bit faster and she held very still in order to not make any noise, still squinting at the map as he drew closer along the route that would lead him to her, and to the trap door.

His dot really was fuzzy compared to the others. Perhaps she could ask Sirius about what could have caused the map to blur so unreliably. He'd always insisted it was perfect.

Quirrell took a sharp corner into the corridor ahead, and for less than a second his blurry name splitinto two crisp lines of text; the one in front said Quirninus Quirrell, and the one behind read Tom Marvalo Riddle.

Arya chocked on her biscuit as quietly as she could and felt sure the beating of her heart would be audible to the approaching figure. She could hear his (their?) footsteps coming closer, and she sat frozen and silent.

Fear made itself known to her in the way the blood drained from her face, and the freezing feeling in her heart. The man came into sight ahead and a second emotion even stronger than the fear emerged, taking her breath away with its ferocity; she felt pure rage.

The man who had killed her parents, who was responsible for the death and tragedy of so many, was coming toward her down the corridor. Her wand was in her hand and she was standing before she knew what she was doing, the map drifting silently to her feet. Voldemort wouldn't be able to detect her underneath her invisibility cloak, - it was a Hallow - infallible and perfect. Even a man such as he must be able to be hurt, to bleed and to die at her feet like any other… Her blood was bounding in her ears, and her breath was coming in silent, shallow gasps.

Her wand was steady as she raised it, forbidden curses on the tip of her tongue, curses that she wasn't supposed to know, that no decent witch would consider using. Ron viewed books as boring tools used for learning exam material, but Hermione knew, and Arya knew, that knowledge was power, and she had always been an avid reader.

Arya remembered Dumbledore's voice suddenly, in the quite evening of their lessons in Remus's small cottage. Ever patient, ever kind, and so wise… she remembered his pride as she had worked out the mystery of the hurcruxes, the cautions they had taken to keep that information hidden in her mind. And she knew; this was not a man who would die like any other.

Arya suddenly felt ashamed. She had ferreted out so much, knew so much more than she was supposed to, and for what? To throw it all away in a blind rage? To mess up the trap Dumbledore had laid out so carefully for this man by killing the shell he possessed to no avail? No. She would not be such a fool.

She would wait for him to enter the room with the Cerberus, and then she would run like hell.

She kept her breath shallow he drew close, her hand on her wand and every muscle tensing with the urge to either fight or run.

Quirrell's strides were long and confident, as she'd never seen him move before. The door opened and Fluffy's growls echoed in the chamber, and she saw Quirrell wave his wand. Gentle harp music began to play, and Arya understood; each Cerberus had a unique weakness. It was part of what made them as a species so dangerous. The growls faded away and ground shook with a muffled thump as the beast collapsed in a deep sleep. Quirrell proceeded through the door and it swung most of the way shut behind him.

Arya vanished the biscuits and stuffed the map into her pocket, breathing deeply and clearing her mind of the emotions that threatened to cloud it. She turned her back to the door and began to move quietly down the corridor. The creaking of the door hinges behind her made her whirl, but it was too late.

Something smashed her in the head with the force of a troll's club, and all went black.

* * *

Arya didn't open her eyes when she regained consciousness, opting to remain limp and motionless as she acclimated to her current situation. She could feel her hands behind her back, tied tightly with rope, and her feet were tied as well, her toes dragging lightly across the floor. She was floating, she knew, the movement of her passage creating a gentle breeze across her face. The air felt colder than the corridor she had passed out in, and she knew she must be under the trap door, help captive by Quirrell. She thought she smelled smoke, but it was faint, and there was little noise around her; she would move along, then hold still, then move again. There was the sound of rock scraping against rock, and she almost jumped the first time a crash rang out and the floor trembled with the force of falling stone.

She risked a peak at her surroundings through half closed eyes, and it took her a few moments to comprehend the giant chessboard she was placed on. Black and white players moved in turn across the spaces, and she did as well, creeping ever closer to the far side of the hall. She understood as she heard Quirrell muttering behind her; this was a further protection guarding the stone. She closed her eyes again.

Her own wand was gone, but she could feel her mother's against her calf. She had no way to reach it. Her mind felt fuzzy from the blow to her head, but she breathed deeply and forced her muscles to relax. Snape had a tracking charm on her. Snape, who had still been in his office instead of guarding her, Snape whose tracking charm she had removed in her dorm, Snape who should know to believe she was in the third floor corridor instead of her bed… and then Arya understood. She had passed Snape in the corridor earlier that day, and then she had passed Quirrell.

Both had cast a tracking spell on her, and she knew now whose she had removed.

She had been trained on what to do if she was ever attacked. Run was the first and best option and had failed. Fight was the next best option, and she'd never had the chance to fire off a spell. The third option was the fruit of many evenings of labor, first with Dumbledore and then with Snape; Arya let the fear fade from her mind, the anger and shame of her capture draining from her like a leaky cauldron. Then she entered her Liar's Palace.

Arya became a passive presence in her own mind. She was aware but unresponsive, hidden in some deep and insignificant corner of her mind. Someone else was in control of her now. Someone she had created. They were very alike in many ways; they had the same history, the same friends, near identical memories. Where their memories diverged, the changes in personality began.

Arya began to shake with fear, a small sob of terror escaping her. She could hear Quirrell laugh at her from somewhere behind, and she cried harder. She hadn't been trained to handle this. Dumbledore was supposed to protect her. Surely Sirius would come save her soon.

The passive part of her watched the chess game progress, grudgingly admiring Quirrell's talent as he sent her drifting across the board.

They reached the end of the board, the game won. Through her shaking, Arya managed a small mental shield, just the way Dumbledore had tried to teach her. She'd never been very good at occlemency.

Quirrell payed her no attention however, and Arya was confused when he strode into the next chamber without her. There was a series of deafening bangs and the sound of something monstrously large hitting the ground and then Quirrell re-emerged. He directed her through the door with his wand, and Arya gagged at a smell she recognized. A mountain troll lay dead in a pool of its own blood, even bigger than the one Ron had fought on Halloween.

Quirrell was in front of her now, but he turned at the last moment and directed her through the entrance ahead of him. Apparently whatever danger lay on the other side, she was going to get the brunt of it instead of him this time. She tensed, but it was only a small chamber with a table covered in bottles. Quirrell entered next, and Arya jumped against her bonds as flames sprang up in the doorways on either side of the room.

Quirrell picked up a piece of parchment that Arya hadn't noticed, and she recognized Snape's cramped hand covering the page. It was a riddle. Though she was too terrified to work it out, the hidden part of her was admiring Snape's tactic. With magic at their fingertips many wizards neglected to learn logic.

Quirrell stopped short of one bottle and cocked his head, as if listening to someone; absurdly, Arya thought she heard something as well. She felt nauseous, and her head was pounding. He reached for the smallest bottle instead, and Arya wondered how close she'd come to being poisoned on accident. No doubt he'd have tested it on her first.

She considered refusing to swallow the potion, but couldn't see the point of fighting when Quirrell commanded her to open her mouth. She was bound and wandless which meant he'd get his way eventually even if she refused. He poured half of the tiny bottle into her mouth, and it tasted like ice made liquid. She felt it freezing her insides on the way down and shuddered violently.

It had been the correct choice. She felt no pain as she was levitated through the flames, the point of Quirrell's wand pressed into her back. He was close behind her, as if he was afraid they were walking into a trap.

Arya sincerely hoped that they were, and the hidden part of her expected it. There was no obvious trap as they entered though, no magical barriers springing up to cut off an escape, or signals going off to give them away. All was silent.

A giant and ornate mirror stood tall in the center of the chamber. Arya could read the inscription above the bright silvery surface, "Erised stra ehru oy tube cafru oyt on wohsi".

Arya didn't know what to make of that. It wasn't in any language she knew.

Deep inside, Arya sighed in wonderment. The Mirror of Erised. The Mirror of Desire. She'd read about it, wondered what secrets it would tell her of herself if she ever had the chance to look into its depths. I show not your face but your hearts desire… Most people didn't truly know what their greatest desire was.

Quirrell spoke at last, his eyes glued rapturously on the mirror.

"At last… the last obstacle in our path. Dumbledore's own protection, and then the stone will be ours…"

Arya had the feeling that he didn't mean her when he said 'ours'.

"Please p-professor, let me go! I won't tell anyone, I promise. I just wanted to know who was after it, I was just curious, I won't tell anyone!"

Quirrell gave her a smirking look, all traces of stuttering nerves gone from him.

"Yes, you are quite the curious little girl aren't you? You and Snape prowling around the castle every other night, crowding the corridors and making it so difficult to do what needed to be done… But no, I won't be letting you go. I knew I would bring eternal life back to my master, and I so hoped you'd be foolish enough to wait in the corridor for me. Such a sweet gift to my master; returned to all his glory, and the child who vanquished him waiting bound and wandless to meet her end."

Quirrell smiled coldly, an insane gleam in his eyes. He turned away from her and strode to the mirror where he stood staring for long moments, entranced by whatever it was he saw inside.

Arya took the opportunity to push her liar's palace back just enough to take a little control over her body. She could feel her two-way mirror pressed against her leg, and she twisted her hands desperately in their bonds. If she could get so much as a fingertip on the mirror and call out for Sirius, help would be on the way. She didn't know what Dumbledore's plan was, and she didn't want to stick around and find out. If Quirrell decided to finish her off on his master's behalf she was done for.

Quirrell cursed under his breath, and Arya ceased her struggles, her wrists raw and bleeding from the ropes. Quirrell inspected to mirror from all sides, waving his wand over it and muttering to himself. Arya could feel the spells he was weaving in the air, but they rippled over the ancient mirror to no avail. He was growing increasingly agitated, throwing glances over his shoulder as if expecting Dumbledore to come bursting in at any moment.

Finally he wailed, "Master! Help me! I see myself getting the stone, I am presenting it to you my Lord… Is it inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

This time Arya didn't have to wonder who he was talking to; a voice responded, high and cold and emanating from the back of Quirrell's bulbous purple turban.

"Use the girl."

Arya shuddered violently and retreated again to the back of her mind, drawing her liar's palace around her like a cloak.

Quirrell rounded on her again, a frantic look in his eyes. "Yes. You, girl, come here, perhaps I will let you go after all, if you help me…"

The lie was obvious, but he did release her from her bonds. Wandless and underage she wasn't a threat. She stumbled when she hit the ground, her feet numb from the tight robes around her ankles, and approached the mirror obediently.

The Mirror of Erised was not fooled by her liar's palace, nor by her occlemeny shields. It saw her heart. And Arya saw herself.

Pale tear stained cheeks and bloody wrists, she was standing alone in the torch lit corridor. She was confused for a moment, and then her reflection changed. It stood up straighter and smiled in a reassuring type of way, and held out its hand. A blood red stone lay in her palm, bright with reflected torchlight. She saw her refection put her hand in her pocket, and to her horror felt the stone appear in her real robe pocket.

Deep in her mind she did a rapid reconstruction. She pulled the memory of the stone into her inner self and projected a composition born of a thousand daydreams and pictures into her liar's palace.

The entire process took barely a minute, but Quirrell was already snapping at her.

"What did you see? Tell me!"

She turned to face him but couldn't meet his eyes through her fear.

"I-I saw my family."

She hugged her arms around herself and let a few tears fall, slipping one hand into her robe pocket to touch the mirror.

"Not Sirius, but my real parents… They were alive and I was with them…"

There was no way to tell whether her call had gotten through to Sirius or not, if he was even awake to see the flashing of his mirror.

Quirrell snarled with rage and contempt, but the high cold voice was back. It demanded to speak with her face to face, and Arya watched with horrified fascination as Quirrell began to unwind his turban. He turned his back to her and she recoiled as she saw the source of the voice.

Where the back of his head should have been there was a face, stretched oddly across the skull of the man it was possessing. Noseless and bone pale, with slits for pupils, Arya looked into Voldemort's eyes for the first time in her living memory.

The force of his mind against her occlemency shield was instantaneous, and Arya shut down her true self into a barely flickering light in the back of her mind. Her false shield crumpled like old parchment in a fire, and Arya screamed.

Dumbledore's touch on her mind had always been gentle, but she had thought Snape's to be rough and abrasive.

Voldemort's was a hurricane that tore through everything in its path; there was no subtlety or technique and she could tell there was no proper training. It ripped through her mind in a flash and retreated as fast as it had come; a few minutes may have passed, but Arya had lost her awareness of time.

She collapsed to her knees, and instinctively wretched her true mind back into place as if to cover the damage done to her palace. He true mind was unscathed. She brought her real shield into place, panting and trembling.

Voldemort's cold voice spoke from above her, shrill with rage.

"She is useless to us. Kill her."


	57. Chapter 57

**A.N Sorry for the long delay, been occupied with life.**

**This chapter is for my sister Kelsey; Happy Birthday! Sorry it's so short, I'll try to update more frequently in the coming months. **

* * *

Chapter 57

Sirius was up past his bedtime. Giant yawns made his jaw creak every few minutes, and the text on the parchment in front of him was beginning to blur. The cat was shedding black fur onto his black robes and drooling a small puddle onto his lap, fast asleep the way that Sirius should have been.

He was giving a speech before the Wizengamot the next morning before the voting on a crucial bit of legislation he was trying to get passed. The words had to be right. The vote was going to be close, with Umbridge and her ilk fighting it every step of the way.

He yawned again and rubbed the stubble on his chin. Perhaps one more read through and he'd call it a night.

He was halfway through the first paragraph when the sudden flashing of a small mirror drew his attention, making him jump and causing the cat to leap disgruntledly off his lap.

Sirius knocked over his quill stand in his hast to grab the mirror. What was Arya calling about in the small hours of the morning? They both would have been asleep on most nights. He stared into the small dark mirror in confusion for a moment when Arya's face didn't appear on its surface. Perhaps she'd said his name in her sleep and activated the mirror on accident, and the call had ended as soon as it'd begun.

Then he realized that the black of the mirror's surface was not a reflection of the dark ceiling above him, but the muffled darkness of fabric on the other end of the connection. James had sometimes called him from the inside of a robe pocket so that Sirius could listen in to a conversation.

Sirius held the mirror up to his ear and started to his feet, his chair crashing to the ground and the mirror slipping from his numb fingers. It fell to the floor where it lay dark and innocent looking, the shrill sound of Arya's screams filling the room.

"She is useless to us. Kill her."

Quirrell spun around and Voldemort's deformed face was once again out of sight. He raised his wand to end her life, and Arya screamed as loud as she could as she dived out of the way. With any luck at all, Sirius would hear her.

A jet of bright green struck the stones where she had been standing and she could hear Voldemort's laughter, high and cold echoing in the chamber. Quirrell snarled as she rolled to her feet, a mad gleam in his eyes as he slashed his wand at her again.

Arya threw herself into a rolling maneuver that never failed to leave bruises on her shoulders, but the exaggerated dodge disguised the movements of her hands and when she surfaced again she was clutching her mother's wand. She slashed savagely and a jet of heat rippled the air; it was Quirrell's turn to throw himself out of the way.

He looked alarmed at her sudden counter attack, but he'd sent another curse her way before he'd even found his footing again.

Arya side stepped swiftly out of its path, the time for dramatic rolls and dives over with. Quirrell circled her cautiously, and Voldemort's laughter had ceased. The room was eerily silent.

They locked eyes above their raised wands, and Arya felt Quirrell's attempt to breach her mind – like an annoying fly buzzing against a glass window. Quirrell froze in astonishment as he came up against her shield, and Arya struck with her mind and her wand.

Quirrell blocked her curse just in time, but his occlemency shield crumpled under the force of her attack.

It was his turn to scream, but Arya was knocked off balance as well; she stumbled as images and scenes swirled in a jumbled mess around her. She had no experience digging through a person's mind. She pulled almost entirely out of his head, but kept a hook lodged into the surface of his thoughts, like a small strand of intention from his mind to hers.

She'd read about this technique; it was how the best fighters dominated anyone untrained in occlemency. Always one step ahead of their opponent.

Something wasn't right. The intentions and thoughts flowing to her were still jumbled, almost incoherent. She felt his rage and confusion, but his exact intentions weren't clear to her. She shook herself, trying to draw her mind back to reality.

Only seconds had passed during their invisible encounter, and Quirrell was staggering, bringing himself back into the moment as she had just done. He was snarling with rage, his face looking almost as deformed as Voldemort's.

_A girl…_ the thought drifted out to her, _just a stupid little girl. Kill her. End it. Kill- _

Arya saw the killing curse form in his mind before his wand was in position. He was still staggering toward her, but she held her ground this time and waited. It was agony not to act, to wait for just the right moment – there!

As Quirrell raised his wand to strike - before the spell could be completed in his mind but too late for him to change his attack - Arya struck first.

Her disarming spell blasted the wand from Quirrell's hand, and Arya had a brief moment of victory before he was on her. She'd let him get too close, focused only on the wand in his hand as the danger. His thoughts were incoherent with rage and fanatic hatred, but she could see now that he would kill her with his bare hands.

He had her around the wrist, forcing her wand away as he wrenched her arm to the side, his other hand gripping the neck of her shirt. Arya screamed as they fell to the ground, his weight crushing her as her head smacked against the stones.

Her mother's wand had been knocked from her hand, but Quirrell was screaming now too, and Arya felt his pain through her connection to his mind. It didn't hurt her the way it hurt him, but she could sense his burning agony where his hands met her bare skin. Her head pounded in pain.

Quirrell released her throat and wrist, and writhed above her, staring in tortured confusion at his hands. The weight of his knees on her chest felt like she was being crushed to death, she could barely breath as she struggled to free herself.

"Master!" Quirrell was sobbing, "Master help me…"

"Kill her, you fool! Kill her!" Voldemort's voice was screaming, no trace of sympathy in it's cold depths.

Quirrell bent over her again, his hot tears splashing her face as his hands closed around her throat.

Arya knew the damage contact with her skin was causing him even as she fought for air, both of her hands clawing his, scrambling for purchase to pry his fingers away. It wasn't going to be enough. She would die before Quirrell gave into the pain – she could feel the conflict in his mind and she knew; he feared failing Voldemort more than he feared the agony he was experiencing now.

Arya released his hands and reached up instead, clutching at her attacker's face. Quirrell's screams intensified, and his hands loosened enough for her to draw in a breath.

She thought she could hear someone sobbing, calling her name. Her head was fuzzy, her vision darkening around the edges. Something monumental was thumping in the back of her mind, kept at bay by her weakening occlumency shields.

Quirrell tried to pull away from her, wrenching his head and torso backward, but she latched the fingers of her left hand into his mouth and he drew her forward as he toppled back. His skin was blackening and cracking beneath her hands, as if he were being burned alive. One cracked and oozing hand closed around her throat once more, and Arya screamed in fear and rage.

Quirrell bit down hard on her fingers hooked in his mouth, but Arya didn't let go. She reached forward again with her right hand and gripped him by the temple before forcing her thumb into his eye. The sound Quirrell made was more of an animal howl than any human noise; his eye hissed and blackened like coal around her thumb. The acrid smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils.

Something inside of Quirrell ripped free. Arya felt his body jerk in her hands as the connection to his mind fell away, stretched into the distance until it broke apart. She knew without a hint of doubt that he was dead.

His body had collapsed against her, and Arya struggled almost more desperately than when he'd been alive. She shoved with all her strength and he rolled limply off of her. The back of his head looked raw and bloodied, opened as if something had forced its way out of his skull. There was no sign of Voldemort.

Arya scrambled to her hands and knees, crawling to put as much distance between herself and the corpse as she could before she had to stop to wretch.

Shuddering breaths filled her lungs with sweet air in between heaving, and when she had emptied her stomach she crawled until she could put her back up against something solid. She needed to clear her mind.

Her head ached and pounded, blood from where she'd hit the stone floor tickled its way down the back of her neck, and Arya breathed the way Dumbledore had taught her years ago. Eyes closed, she brought back the feeling of that first lesson, safe in the little cottage with the wood stove surrounded by family.

She thought she could even hear Sirius's voice, calling her name. In fact, she was almost certain she could hear him… She sat up with a start and dug into her pockets, spilling out a ruby red stone the size of her palm, and a small square of mirror from which Sirius's panicked face stared up at her.

His face was moving within the frame of the mirror as though he was running, and there were too many echoes and voices for her to make out what he was saying. Arya smiled into the mirror, feeling dizzy but reassured; it was all going to be okay now, Sirius was coming.

With that last contented thought, Arya promptly passed out.


End file.
